Arkham Through the Ages, Part III
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: Similar to my "Gotham Through the Ages" series, these stories take Batman and his rogues gallery and place them in different time periods. Only this time, they're not confined to Gotham. Part III is a tale of World War II, where Arkham Camp on the Western Front experiences a treat when the double act of Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy come to entertain them...
1. Chapter 1

**Arkham Through the Ages, Part III**

 **Gotham City, USA, 1944**

" _Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag, and smile, smile, smile. While you've a lucifer to light your fag, smile boys, that's the style. What's the use of worrying? It never was worthwhile, so pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag, and smile, smile, smile! Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag and smile, smile, smile…_ "

"Harley, can you please stop singing that song?" demanded Pamela Isley, glaring at her companion working on the neighboring jet engine. "It's just gonna get stuck in my head again."

"Sorry, Red," said Harleen Quinzel, smiling up at her as she paused in cleaning the engine to wipe her brow. "But singing makes the work more fun for me. Helps the time go by faster."

"Hard work is its own reward, Harley," retorted Pamela, tightening the bolts on the engine's propeller. "At least one good thing's come outta this war, and that's that women are finally allowed to actually get a real job and be useful. I've been waiting for this opportunity my whole life. Now that I've got a chance to prove myself, I'm not gonna blow it. It's like Rosie the Riveter says, 'We can do it,' girls," she said, gesturing at the poster hanging above them.

"Sure, it's inspirational and all, Red," said Harleen. "And I'm happy to support our boys overseas, but that doesn't make scrubbing down jet engines and repairing broken planes any more fun."

"It's a war, Harley – it's not supposed to be fun," retorted Pamela.

"I guess not," agreed Harleen. "And I guess we should count ourselves lucky that we ain't men so we don't have to be drafted to go fight overseas somewhere. This is definitely better than that. At least we ain't being shot at."

"You know, if women were in charge of things, we wouldn't have had one world war, let alone two," said Pamela. "We're just so much more rational than men. It should be like this all the time – women in charge of everything. Life would be a lot better."

"I dunno – I'll be kinda glad when the war's over, and I can stop spending eight hours a day in a factory," said Harleen. "I mean, I'm sure you're right, Red, and we'd do a great job in charge of things. But I'll be relieved when our boys are home again anyway."

"Why? You got a fella fighting overseas?" asked Pamela, tightening more bolts.

"No," replied Harleen. "I was too young to really be seeing anyone before the war started, and by the time I was old enough, they had all gone off to fight. So it'll be nice when they're back, and I can actually maybe go out with someone. You got a fella?"

"I have a couple fellas," replied Pamela, shrugging. "I don't feel the need to tie myself down to one – women should have the freedom to look around, same as men."

"Wow, that's really brave of you, Red," said Harleen, smiling at her admiringly. "I never met a woman as strong-willed as you before."

"Well, it's a new generation, Harley," said Pamela. "My dream is for all women to be strong-willed one day, and not depend on men for happiness or validation. And if you ask me, this war's brought us one step closer to it."

"You mean because a lotta men have been killed in the war?" asked Harleen. "So we really kinda have to be independent because there won't be enough men to go around?"

"Well, sorta," agreed Pamela. "I actually mean things like this," she said, gesturing around at the factory of female workers. "Women united together in difficult jobs, proving our mettle. I think it's great. And I think once women have had a taste of this kinda life, they're not gonna go so easily back to being submissive housewives."

Harleen shrugged. "Give me housework over this any day," she said, returning to scrubbing the engine. "At least the dishes don't have fuel burns on 'em."

A whistle sounded throughout the factory. "Lunch break time, ladies!" called the forewoman, Joan Leland.

"Finally!" sighed Harleen in relief, throwing down the rag and racing toward the break room. Pamela finished her work on the engine, and then followed.

Harleen was the first one in the break room, and rushed over to the radio, turning up the music as she grabbed her lunch. "That was The Andrews Sisters and _Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy_ ," announced the radio. "And now for the news bulletin. Our boys continue to press across The Western Front, striking a blow to Hitler's army in Europe. With the liberation of Paris, troops are now slowly advancing across France toward the Rhine and into Germany, where the lion's den of Berlin awaits. If our boys can take the city, with the help our British allies, it could result in the defeat of Hitler and the end of the war, bringing our troops home at last. I think I speak for all of us when I say, go get 'em, boys!"

"Gee, wouldn't that be great, Red?" exclaimed Harleen, smiling at her. "They could be home in time for Christmas if all goes well!"

"Hopefully," agreed Pamela. "But I wouldn't get your hopes up too much, Harley. I think they probably still got a long and difficult road ahead. And Hitler isn't exactly the type to surrender – he'll probably fight to the last man. Crazy people never know when to quit, you know."

"Well, that guy's definitely crazy," said Harleen. "If he tried to make me wear any kinda star, I'd beat the crap outta him."

"You're Jewish?" asked Pamela.

"Yeah," said Harleen, nodding. "Not that he'd be able to tell that – I look Aryan enough. He probably knows he's just spouting a buncha crap, but it's amazing how many people bought it."

"Yeah, there are a lotta idiots out there," agreed Pamela.

"I'm just glad we finally realized he's gotta be stopped," said Harleen. "The Brits realized it ages ago, but we had to wait for Japan to attack us before we did anything about Hitler."

"Well, the Brits live closer to him," said Ivy, shrugging. "Probably easier to keep an eye on your neighbors and realize they're power-crazed megalomaniacs who'll stop at nothing short of world domination when you just got a little channel between you."

The music paused again on the radio for another announcement. "Have you ever dreamed of performing in front of an audience? Can you sing like Ol' Blue Eyes and dance like Fred Astaire? Well, your country needs you! The United Service Organization, the USO, are looking for volunteer entertainment acts to lift the spirits of our troops overseas. You'll be playing a vital role in morale boosting, and giving our boys something worth fighting for. To apply, get down to your local recruitment office and speak to a representative."

Harleen's eyes lit up. "Red!" she exclaimed, leaping to her feet. "Did you hear that?"

"What?" asked Pamela, who hadn't been paying attention.

"The commercial! They're looking for volunteers to entertain the troops overseas! That's more my idea of aiding the war effort, not scrubbing away at jet engines!" cried Harleen. "I'm gonna go down there and sign up for it!"

"Are you nuts?" demanded Pamela. "Why would anyone volunteer to leave the safety of the US and go over to that mess in Europe? Maybe factory work isn't pleasant, but at least you're not gonna be shot when you do it!"

"Aw, I'm sure they'll keep the performers safe," said Harleen, shrugging. "And at least I can see the smiles on the guys' faces so I know I'm making a difference, rather than just dealing with cold machinery here. Plus I might get to see Paris. I've always wanted to see Paris."

"Why don't you wait and see it when it's not been war-ravaged?" demanded Pamela. "You can't volunteer for this, Harley. You're my best friend. It's not safe, and I won't let you."

"You…could always come with me, Red," said Harleen, pleadingly.

"Hey, I like factory work just fine!" snapped Pamela. "Anyway, I don't sing and dance."

"I can teach you," said Harleen. "We can learn a whole song and dance routine together, just the thing to cheer up the boys. And we can have stage names and everything – I'll be Harley Quinn, like the clown, and I'll get a pretty costume with sequins…"

"Harley, I think you've built this up in your head to be some kinda Hollywood-lite experience," interrupted Pamela. "But you'll be going to a warzone. It's gonna be dangerous, and unpleasant, and you might not leave it alive. I really don't think getting to wear a sequinned costume is worth that."

"But it could be my big break, Red!" exclaimed Harleen. "If the boys like me, it might get me a Hollywood gig! I might be famous! Leave this dump of a town and see my name in lights! It's all I've ever dreamed of, and if I can make my dream come true, and help cheer up our boys overseas at the same time, then that's what I'm gonna do! And nothing you can say or do is gonna talk me outta it!"

Pamela sighed heavily. "Fine," she muttered. "Then I guess I'm going with you. But if we're both killed, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Nah, we ain't gonna be killed, Red," said Harleen. "We're gonna knock 'em dead! And then they're gonna knock the Nazis dead, and it'll all be thanks to us! Maybe they'll let me punch Hitler in the face, and put the picture of it on the cover of Time Magazine! Or at least on the cover of a comic book or something…"

"You keep your fantasies, Harley," sighed Pamela. "But I think you're going to be really disappointed by the reality of life overseas."


	2. Chapter 2

**Arkham Camp, Somewhere on the French-German Border**

"Is there any better feeling in the world than a fresh shave, guys?" sighed the Joker, staring into the mirror as he ran a straight razor blade along his cheek.

"Sleeping in your own bed, safe and warm, as opposed to on the cold ground in a wet sleeping bag?" muttered Jonathan Crane, not looking up from the book he was reading.

"Lying in the arms and caressing the soft flesh of a beautiful woman?" suggested Harvey Dent, not looking up from the letter he was writing.

"Nope, you're both crazy," said the Joker, putting down the razor and admiring his reflection. "There's only one feeling better than a fresh shave, and that's killing Nazis! And then carving smiles on their faces so Herr Hitler knows it was me who offed 'em, and then taking their scalps as a reward. Who wants to see my Nazi scalp collection?" he asked.

"We've all seen it," muttered Dent.

"Except the commander, unfortunately, who would most definitely take it away," muttered Crane. "Which I, for one, would be grateful for – it's starting to smell."

"Ahoy hoy!" said a voice, as Jervis Tetch opened the tent flap and smiled at them. "Just wondering if you Yanks had any of your sugar ration left – we're having tea in our camp and I can't stand tea without sugar."

"Speaking of smells, here's the Limey," muttered Joker. "Why don't you stay in your own camp with your British friends and stop bothering us?"

"Because we're all out of sugar there, as I said," retorted Tetch. "We've been low on sugar for the five years we've been fighting this war, as opposed to your three, since you were late for a very important date…"

"Hey, don't blame me for us not entering the war until '41!" exclaimed Joker. "If it had been up to me, we'd have been killing Nazis from the beginning! That's the only reason I'm over here, and the only reason I look like this!" he said, gesturing to his clown face.

"I have been meaning to ask what happened to you, but it seemed rude to do so," commented Tetch. "And an Englishman is never rude."

"Oh, you're in for a treat," said Dent, sarcastically. "J loves telling everyone his life story, whether they ask about it or not."

"I was born in a small fishing village…" began Joker.

"Last time you said you were born in Gotham City," interrupted Crane.

"Hey, sometimes I remember it one way, sometimes another," snapped Joker. "If I'm going to have a past, I prefer it to be multiple choice! Anyway, I always wanted to join the circus, but my cop father wouldn't let me…"

"Is this your cop father in the fishing village, or Gotham City?" asked Tetch, puzzled.

"Does it matter?" asked Joker. "Actually, I suppose none of this really does – it's all just filler leading up the main event. So the war breaks out in '39, and naturally I wanna do my part. Being paid to kill people is kinda what I was doing before anyway, and at least this is legitimate work, plus Nazis are the worst, so I wanna sign up and be shipped over here ASAP. So I go to my local recruitment office and ask if I can go over with the Brits or someone, but they said no. But they also said if I was really keen, there was this super-secret experimental program I could sign up for, just in case we needed to join the war eventually. So I said yes, thinking that was maybe just a legal thing they had to say in order to avoid awkward questions when I got shipped over. But it was, in fact, actually a super-secret experimental program that the government was working on, to create super-soldiers to fight the Nazis. Well, if someone offers you a chance to get super powers, you don't just say no and walk away. I was really looking forward to being super fast, super strong, super smart, which of course I already was anyway, but a little extra never hurt. Anyway, these science types mixed a buncha crap together in a vat, and then dropped me in. Turns out they got their science wrong, because I didn't come out with super powers. I just came out looking like a clown."

"With a demented sense of humor, and an insane love of violence," commented Crane.

"Yeah, but I also had those before," said Joker, shrugging. "Especially toward Nazis."

"Why do you hate Nazis so much in particular?" asked Tetch. "I mean, we all do, but not all of us subjected ourselves to secret government experiments to get a chance to fight them."

"Nazis are diametrically opposed to everything I believe in and stand for," retorted Joker. "They're fascists, so they believe in telling everyone what to do, and pushing them around all the time. They believe in order and control and in precisely engineering a whole society based on rules and regulations and racial purity. That ain't my style. I believe in fun and laughter and hanging the rules! There's no room for a little chaos in the Nazis's vision of the future, so I don't want any part of it. Plus, they're German, so they don't have a sense of humor. You ever heard of a German comedian? It's an oxymoron. No, siree, I ain't letting these humorless bastards take over the world. I'm gonna kill 'em all, down to the last man, and I'm gonna have a lotta fun while doing it. Maybe then they'll learn their lesson about bossing people around."

"Soldiers, atten hut!" snapped a voice suddenly. Everyone turned to see their commanding officer, Captain Bruce Wayne, standing in the doorway, arms behind his back. Everyone immediately dropped what they were doing and snapped to attention.

"What are you doing here, Lieutenant Tetch?" demanded Wayne, glaring at Tetch. "You're a Brit, aren't you? Why don't you get back to the Brit camp?"

"I…uh…just came to borrow some sugar," stammered Tetch. "And I was under the impression…that we're all friends here."

"Immaterial," snapped Wayne. "We can't have anybody just coming and going in and out of camp. We have to maintain control of our territory at all times. Otherwise some German spy could slip in somehow, and that's the last thing we need. Get back to your regiment, lieutenant, and don't let me catch you here again."

"Yes, sir," said Tetch, saluting and hurrying off.

"Speaking of fascists who like bossing people around," muttered Joker under his breath.

Wayne heard him and glared, striding over to him. "You got something to say to me, soldier?" he demanded.

"No, sir," replied Joker, with a grin. "Just that you might consider switching sides, since you seem to share the enemy's attitude toward life."

Wayne's glare deepened, and he abruptly punched Joker across the face. "You got an attitude problem, soldier," he growled. "I won't have grunts like you giving me lip. You know why I'm in charge of this regiment and you're not? Because I maintain discipline at all times. Strict, harsh discipline. You'd do well to remember that."

"Yes, sir," replied Joker. "It was just my understanding that the Germans are fans of that as well…"

Wayne punched him again. "And it's my understanding that you have contraband in your possession," he said. "Where is it?"

"What contraband?" asked Joker, puzzled.

"War trophies," retorted Wayne. "You know they're illegal. We treat the enemy's dead with respect, not steal from them."

"But they ain't gonna miss 'em!" exclaimed Joker. "They're dead! They don't need 'em anymore, and it'll give me something to brag about to the dames when I get back home!"

"Where is it?" repeated Wayne, sternly.

"It's over there," said Crane, pointing underneath Joker's sleeping bag.

Joker glared at Crane as Wayne stormed over and pulled out a small, flat box, which he opened to reveal a collection of scalps. He glared up at Joker again. "You're a sick animal, soldier," he snapped. "How are we supposed to prove ourselves better than the enemy when we engage in mindless acts of violence?"

"Hey, it's not like I scalped 'em when they were alive!" retorted Joker. "It's just for me to keep count of how many Nazis I've killed! It's a personal thing!"

"It's earned you a month of cleaning duty at the mess hall," retorted Wayne, closing up the case and carrying it out. "As you were, soldiers."

Both Crane and Dent exhaled the breath they had been holding as Wayne left. "I'd better see if I can't smuggle that sugar over to Jervis somehow…" began Crane.

"No one leaves," muttered Joker, turning around slowly. "Who told that jerk Wayne about my collection?"

"It was him," said Dent, pointing at Crane.

Crane glared at him. "Yes, all right, it was!" he snapped. "But it was starting to smell…"

"You're a medic!" snapped Joker. "You should be used to the smell of rotting flesh by now!"

"I am, but that doesn't mean I want to smell it when I'm off duty!" snapped Crane. "And at least you'll stop showing it off now! It's bad enough that I went through eight years of medical school only to be shipped off to die in some godforsaken wasteland without having to share a tent with a deranged lunatic who looks like a clown and collects Nazi scalps!"

"Yeah, well, thanks to you, I gotta start my collection all over again!" shouted Joker. "I had ones in there from D-Day, you know! They'd be worth a lotta money someday!"

"Nobody is going to pay you for Nazi scalps!" snapped Crane.

"Well, not anymore, that's for sure!" snapped Joker. "That jerk Wayne is gonna make a profit outta all my hard work now, and he's already rich! Way to be a narc, Johnny! You know what I do to narcs?"

"Woah, let's just calm down," said Dent, stepping in between them. "We got a lotta enemies out there – let's not fight amongst ourselves. Tetch is right, we're all friends here, so let's act like it."

"Aw, you're always the voice of reason, Harv," said Joker, smiling at him. "That must be what your fiancee loves about you – you're a cool, collected, calm kinda guy."

"Yeah, and I'd really like to get back to my letter to her, so calm down and let me," snapped Dent.

"Whatcha writing to her?" asked Joker, as he followed Dent. "Telling her about all the delights of Europe, the glamour of a bombed-out Paris and the haute cuisine of its starving citizens? You think that's why French people eat snails, because they've really got nothing else to eat?"

"I'm telling her that I love and I miss her," retorted Dent.

"Oooh, a steamy kinda letter!" chuckled Joker. "Something to keep her warm until your return, I guess, so she don't wander off in search of some other guy."

"Grace wouldn't do that," snapped Dent. "She's loyal."

"I'm sure she is, but you have been gone a long time, you know," sighed Joker. "Dames have certain urges, same as we do, and if her guy ain't there to satisfy 'em, it's only natural that she'd start looking for someone else. Can't blame her – it's just human nature."

"Ok, unless you want me to punch you in the face too, stop talking about my fiancee like that," snapped Dent.

Joker chuckled, patting him on the back. "Only joking, Harv. Only joking. Ah, I love it when calm and collected guys start to lose their cool – it's so rewarding to see how madness and irrationality always prevails, even in the most normal-seeming of people. Of course that's what I love about war in general – it's like free-range insanity! Everybody killing each other just because somebody in charge tells 'em to. I kinda wish life could be like this all the time!" he sighed, wistfully. "Without the people in charge, of course – that part just ruins the fun!"

He whistled as he sat back down on his sleeping bag. Crane walked past him toward the exit with the sugar for Tetch, and Joker suddenly stuck his foot out, tripping him up. Then he leaped on top of him, wrestling him to the ground and shouting, "Eat dirt, narc!"

Dent sighed as other soldiers hurried over to pull them apart – he had a feeling Joker would be cleaning the mess hall for a very long time.


	3. Chapter 3

Evening fell, and in the neighboring camp of British troops, the men began to retire for the night. Private Alfred Pennyworth of His Majesty's 43rd Infantry Division lay in his bunk, waiting for his companions to put out the lights and fall asleep. Afterward, he lay in the dark for some time, waiting until he could hear the regular, steady, rise and fall of their breathing. Then he carefully stood up, grabbing a bag by the foot of his bed and tiptoeing out of the tent.

He carefully picked his way across the camp in the dark, heading in the direction of the American camp. "Pennyworth? Where are you going?" asked a voice suddenly.

Alfred turned and saluted hastily. "Lieutenant Tetch, sir. I was just…going to visit Arkham."

"May I ask why?" asked Jervis Tetch, who had been taking a late evening stroll with a cup of tea when he had come across Alfred.

"I…had a craving for a late night cup of tea, sir," said Alfred, slowly. "But I'm all out of my sugar ration."

"Ah. Say no more," said Tetch, nodding as he sipped his own cup. "They do have some there, but they're not the most obliging of people, especially not that Captain Wayne. Do try to avoid him – he'll give you a lecture if he catches you. It must be very trying for the American troops at Arkham to be under the thumb of such an obsessive disciplinarian. If I had to serve under him, I'd go mad as a hatter."

"I'll be careful, sir," said Alfred, nodding.

"See that you are," said Tetch. "And if anyone asks, I never saw you sneaking around after lights out, and you didn't see me either."

"Understood, sir, thank you, sir," said Alfred, saluting. He hurried off, racing the short distance between the two camps and sneaking in round the back. He hurried over to a tent in the center of the camp.

"Alfred, there you are!" exclaimed Captain Wayne. "You're late!"

"Sorry, sir," said Alfred, unpacking the bag he had brought hastily. "I was caught by Lieutenant Tetch, but I made up some story about sugar and tea, which he seemed to buy."

"You're sure he doesn't suspect anything?" asked Wayne.

"If he does, sir, it won't be this," retorted Alfred, pulling a costume out of a bag and handing it to Wayne.

"Good. I don't need to remind you that secrecy is of the essence for the continued success of the mission," said Wayne, taking the costume from him and heading behind a screen to change.

"I kept your father's secret, sir," retorted Alfred. "There's no reason why I should suddenly feel the need to reveal his son's."

"Well, my father and I have different methods of helping the war effort," replied Wayne, stripping off his uniform and pulling on the costume.

"Yours is a bit more eccentric, but no less vital, sir," replied Alfred, handing a map to Wayne as he emerged from behind the screen dressed in a bat costume. "The enemy camp is two miles east of here – the plans in question are in the commander's personal papers, according to our source. If you can acquire these without being seen, we'll finally know what this secret weapon the Nazis keep talking about is, and more importantly, how to destroy it."

Wayne nodded. "Wish me luck," he said, heading toward the exit.

"Good luck, sir," said Alfred. "You're going to need it."

…

Earlier that evening, the Joker had begun his task of cleaning up the mess hall. Which he thought he had sufficiently accomplished, before Captain Wayne had come in to check. "Needs a bit more spit and polish, don't you think, soldier?" he had demanded, glaring at Joker.

"No, I think it's pretty good…" began Joker.

"I think it needs a bit more spit and polish," interrupted Wayne. "This kinda slap-dash effort might have been acceptable in your civilian job, but in my army, I want to be able to see my face in those pots and pans. Understood?"

"Well, you can see your face, it's just a little distorted, like a funhouse mirror…" began Joker.

"Start over," interrupted Wayne, sternly. "Now. That's an order."

Joker grumbled to himself as Wayne stormed off. "Spit and polish, I'll give you spit and polish, you narcissistic hardass," he muttered, spitting on the pan. "Why doncha just buy a real mirror and stop using dishes, huh?"

It took the Joker another few hours to complete the whole task of cleaning over again, which took until after midnight. At this point, everyone in the camp had retired for the night, and Joker wasn't too keen to go wake up Wayne just to hear him criticize his work again. Instead, Joker just finished up by taking out the trash before heading off to his own tent to sleep.

He was just dumping the trash into a nearby stream just outside camp, which was his version of getting rid of it, when he saw a moving shadow in the forest out of the corner of his eye. Always armed, the Joker reached for his gun, thinking it could be an enemy, but the shadow passed on quickly, heading east. Joker, curious and eager to kill a Nazi, followed it, and as he drew closer, realized that it wasn't a Nazi. Or at least, not any Nazi he had ever seen. It was a man in a bat costume.

The man in the bat costume was clearly trying to be stealthy, constantly looking around to make sure he wasn't being followed, but it wasn't the first time the Joker had stalked someone before, and he managed to keep out of sight while keeping tabs on the man as he headed deeper and deeper into enemy territory.

The forest cleared at least to reveal an encampment. A few guards patrolled the border wearing Nazi uniforms, but the rest of the camp seemed to be asleep. Two guards paused to speak to each other, and the man in the bat costume slipped past them. Joker remained at the edge of the forest and watched as the man in the bat costume blended into the shadows, creeping toward a tent. He entered, and re-emerged a few moments later, tucking a piece of paper into a pouch on his belt.

It was at that moment that one of the guards suddenly turned and spotted him. " _Achtung!_ " he shouted, abruptly cut off as the man in the bat costume punched him in the face. He reached into a separate pouch and pulled out what appeared to be boomerangs in the shape of a bat, and threw two of these at the other guards. One hit its mark – the other missed, and the guard began firing at the man in the bat costume. The darkness of his suit camouflaged him as the man in the bat costume dodged the bullets, reaching into another pouch and firing a grappling hook at the shooting guard. It caught him around the throat, and the man in the bat costume pulled hard, knocking him to the ground. He grabbed another guard's gun, slamming his face into it, and then using the gun to hit another one across the nose. He then began racing back toward the cover of the forest. Four more guards had come running at the noise, and started shooting at the man in the bat costume again. One bullet tore through his cape, and the other hit his leg, causing the man in the bat costume to stumble and fall. The guards raced toward him, surrounding him and preparing to shoot him. And that's when the Joker stepped in.

He stepped out of the forest, barely pausing to aim, and shooting all four of them straight through the skull before they could react. The man in the bat costume stared up at him in astonishment.

"C'mon," muttered Joker, grabbing him by the arm and hoisting him up as the camp began to rouse itself. "Let's get outta here. I ain't even gonna stop to scalp 'em."

They hurried into the trees, not pausing until they were safely back at Arkham camp. "Should I getcha to the medic?" asked Joker of the man in the bat costume, who was leaning heavily on his shoulder. "He's my roomie…"

"No," muttered the man in the bat costume. "Just take me to my tent. I'll be fine."

"Ok, but I don't know which is your tent," said Joker. "Cause of the mask and all."

The man in the bat costume sighed, pulling off his mask suddenly. Joker stared at him in shock. "Captain…Wayne?" he stammered. "What…the hell…"

"Get me to my tent," interrupted Wayne. "We'll talk there."

Joker obeyed. "Master Bruce!" exclaimed Alfred, racing over to him. "You're hurt!"

"Just a scratch," retorted Wayne, ushering him away. "I have bigger problems right now," he said, nodding at Joker.

"Did you…get it, sir?" stammered Alfred.

Wayne nodded, reaching into his belt and pulling out the paper. "It's worse than we thought," he muttered.

Alfred took the paper from him, scanned it, and nodded. "I'll get this to headquarters at once…"

"Ok, sorry to interrupt, but can one of you tell me what the hell is going on?" interrupted Joker. "Why is Captain Wayne dressed up in a bat costume and sneaking into Nazi camps?"

Alfred and Wayne shared a look. "Can we trust him, sir?" asked Alfred.

"We have no choice," snapped Wayne. "He's seen everything. And he's also…saved my life. I owe him my trust at least."

He hissed as Alfred helped him into a chair, and began to bandage his wound. "I'm sorry you had to see that back there, soldier," said Wayne.

"Hey, I'm not," retorted Joker. "It was badass!"

"It was meant to be a secret mission," continued Wayne. "The truth is…while I do command this force, I also work as a secret agent for the American government. My father did the same kind of work in the First World War – mostly stealth and spying stuff. Sort of a Wayne family tradition. Anyway, my code name is the Batman, and my job is to find out what exactly the Nazis are up to. We've intercepted messages about some sort of secret weapon they're planning, and I was meant to steal the plans for that without anyone noticing. Clearly that part failed. But hopefully studying the plans will reveal a weakness…"

"What's the weapon?" asked Joker.

"That's classified," retorted Wayne. "A government secret that's on a need-to-know basis, and you don't need to know. All you need to know is that it's vital that my identity remains a secret, so that I can continue to operate undercover to aid the war effort. I need your word that you won't tell anyone what you saw tonight."

Joker smiled. "You know, sir, I used to really not like you. But now that I know you're completely nuts, I kinda have a newfound respect for you."

"…thank you," said Wayne, slowly.

"And of course I'll keep your secret," continued Joker. "As long as you do a few little favors for me, of course."

Wayne glared at him. "Are you trying to blackmail me, soldier?"

"Damn straight I am," retorted Joker. "And my first condition of silence is no more mess hall cleaning duty."

Wayne nodded slowly. "Very well."

"My second condition is that you return my Nazi scalp collection," said Joker.

"I don't have it anymore," replied Wayne. "I burned it."

"You burned it?!" repeated Joker, shocked and angry. "Why would you burn money?! Do you not like the thought of being rich?!"

"I'll give you money if that's what you want," snapped Wayne.

"No, no money can replace the sentimental value of those scalps for me," sighed Joker. "Well, in that case, Brucie, I'm gonna have to ask you for a few other favors, to make up for getting rid of my scalps."

"What are they?" asked Wayne.

"I don't know," replied Joker. "I haven't thought of them yet. But I'll let you know when I do, you can be sure of that."

He grinned. "Well, nighty night, Brucie boy. To quote _Casablanca_ , 'I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship!'"

Joker left the tent, chuckling to himself. "Can we trust him, sir?" asked Alfred, slowly.

"I told you, we don't have any choice," retorted Wayne. "But I'm hoping to God we can."


	4. Chapter 4

"Wow, that flight was amazing!" exclaimed Harleen Quinzel, skipping down the steps of the airplane. "I've never been on a plane before!"

"And I never wanna be on one again, except to go home," muttered Pamela Isley, following her down the steps. "All that sitting still for hours in a cramped space on a loud flight is not for me."

"But it was kinda exciting how you could see everything," said Harleen, beaming. "Up above the clouds like that, and how small everything was in comparison! Makes you feel really calm and peaceful. Well, if you ignore the roaring engines in your ear and the fact that you're going to a warzone, that is."

"Ladies, welcome to Arkham Camp," said Captain Wayne, who greeted them on the nearby landing field and saluted. "I'm Captain Bruce Wayne – I'm in charge of this facility. And we're so pleased and grateful you've decided to grace us with your presence."

"Aw, the pleasure's all mine, Brucie," said Harleen, grabbing his hand and shaking it enthusiastically. "I'm such a fan of you army boys – you're doing such great work for our country and the cause of freedom!"

"We do try, ma'am," said Wayne, nodding. "Miss…Quinzel, is it?"

"Call me Harley, everyone does," said Harleen. "And my stage name is Harley Quinn, like the clown, so you can call me Miss Quinn if you want. This is my stage partner, Pamela Isley…"

"Poison Ivy," said Pamela, nodding at him. "That's the one good thing about the transatlantic flight – lots of time to think up a stage name."

"It's a long haul, but the men are gonna be so grateful you're here," said Wayne. "Most of them haven't seen a woman in years, so female acts are always popular."

"And…it's safe here, huh?" asked Pamela, slowly. "I mean, not just from the Nazis, but from…uh…potentially misbehaving guys on our side?"

"Don't worry, ma'am," said Wayne, nodding. "Your quarters are guarded night and day by my most trustworthy men. And if you have any problems, please don't hesitate to come to me, and I'll sort them out. My men know how to behave – I've drilled that into them, if nothing else."

He gestured for his accompanying soldiers to unload the plane's luggage. "If you'll follow me, I'll show you to your quarters now."

"You ok?" asked Harleen, noticing that Wayne walked with a slight limp.

"Just a…training accident," invented Wayne, quickly. "Twisted my ankle doing an exercise."

"Yeah, I did that practicing the dance routine on the plane," said Harleen, nodding. "They really should tell you to sit down and buckle up during turbulence…"

"They did, Harley," retorted Pamela, rolling her eyes. "You just sang over them."

"I can't help that I wanna sound my best, Red," said Harleen, shrugging. "These guys have a hard life over here – the last thing I wanna do is add to their problems by singing like crap."

"Like I said, most of the men haven't seen a woman in years," repeated Wayne. "I doubt they'll have any complaints about your singing."

They entered the camp, and all activity instantly stopped as the men's eyes fixated on Harleen and Pamela, staring at them in spellbound fascination. "Wow…this isn't at all creepy…" muttered Pamela.

"Hi, boys!" exclaimed Harleen, waving. "I'm Harley Quinn, and I can't wait to perform for you later tonight! Keep up the good fight! God bless America and all that jazz!"

The men cheered and hooted, and Harleen took a little bow. "See, they love us, Red!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah, just keep walking," muttered Pamela, keeping a close eye on Harleen until they reached the safety of their tent, where Wayne left them alone. Pamela let out a sigh of relief.

"Well, I'm not going back out there in a hurry," she said. "It's scary."

"What are you talking about?" asked Harleen. "Didn't you see the adoring looks we were getting from everyone?"

"Yeah, I got looks like that from a lotta creeps back home, and I didn't enjoy them then either," muttered Pamela. "This was a bad idea, Harley. I'd rather be back in Gotham actually doing a hard day's work than performing as eye candy for these desperate men!"

"Gee, Red, show a little compassion," said Harleen. "These guys have a hard life. If being performing eye candy for them gives them a little relief from their troubles, then it's really the least we can do."

"Yeah, I'm not wild about the idea of men getting relief from us, if you know what I'm saying," muttered Pamela.

"I don't," replied Harleen, looking puzzled.

Pamela sighed. "Harley, I know you've never had a boyfriend, but don't you know…about how things work…between men and women?"

"You mean like going out for dates and stuff?" asked Harleen. "Sure I know about that."

"I mean…more intimate stuff," said Pamela, slowly.

"You mean like kissing after a date?" asked Harleen. "I know about that too – never after the first one, or they'll think you're easy," she said, nodding firmly.

"Do you know what easy means?" asked Pamela.

"Yeah, it means easy to please, y'know, not picky," said Harleen. "But I am picky, Red. I got standards, and any guy I date has gotta understand that."

"Oh my God, I'm gonna have to have the talk with you," muttered Pamela. She sighed heavily. "Why can't you just learn about it from dirty books, like normal people? Say, there's an idea," she said, brightening. "And there's gotta be dirty books around here somewhere – we're in an all male army camp, after all. But I don't think it's really the sorta thing we should ask Captain Wayne for."

"What dirty books?" asked Harleen, confused.

"I'll show you when I've got one," said Pamela. "For now, we'd better practice the routine so we don't embarrass ourselves tonight. I guess now that we're here, we should do our best."

"That's the spirit!" exclaimed Harleen, heading over to her suitcase. "Dress rehearsal time! I can't wait to wear my costume!"

…

"Where did you get a radio?" asked Harvey Dent, staring in astonishment as the Joker shaved, whistling along to a tune coming from the machine.

"Captain Wayne," said Joker, smiling. "He wasn't using it, and since we're best pals now and all, he let me borrow it."

"You and Captain Wayne are friends?" asked Dent, puzzled. "Are you sure?"

"Sure I'm sure," said Joker, nodding.

"Didn't he call you a sick animal, take your scalp collection, and make you do mess hall cleaning duty last night?" asked Dent.

"Yeah, but a lot can change in twenty-four hours," said Joker, chuckling to himself. "Now we're best pals."

"Why?" asked Dent.

Joker tapped his nose. "Can't tell you, Harv. Wartime secrets and all – vital to national security type stuff. Loose lips sink ships, y'know."

"O…K," said Dent, slowly, rolling his eyes. "I think you've just gone crazy being stuck out here so long."

Jonathan Crane suddenly came running over to the tent, gasping for breath. "There are…I saw…girls in the camp!" he gasped.

"Girls?" repeated Dent. "Has everyone in this camp suddenly started imagining things?"

Crane shook his head. "They just landed…from America...absolutely gorgeous!"

"How many girls?" asked Joker.

"Two," replied Crane. "A redhead, and a blonde."

"Oooh, I do like blondes!" chuckled Joker.

"I'm partial to redheads myself," said Dent, nodding.

"I don't think anyone in this camp is particularly picky at this point in time," retorted Crane. "Though I did think the blonde was the much more attractive one. She also seemed friendlier."

"Any idea what they're doing here?" asked Dent.

"I think they're here to entertain us – the blonde mentioned something about performing tonight," said Crane.

"She's welcome to perform for me anytime, if you get what I'm saying!" chuckled Joker.

"And I'm sure with that kind of charm, she'll be happy to," said Crane, sarcastically. "If any of us want a chance with them, we have to have good manners and act like gentlemen, everyone knows that."

"You still won't have a chance with them," retorted Joker. "You ain't got the looks ladies like."

"What, and you do?" demanded Crane. "I think I missed that clown heartthrob craze – oh, that's right, because it never happened!"

"I'm pretty sure none of us are going to be allowed to…fraternize with them," said Dent. "Captain Wayne would never allow it. Doesn't matter to me, of course – I'm engaged."

"Oh, I'm sure Captain Wayne can be reasonable," chuckled Joker. "At least, towards me he can, being my bestest buddy and all. Maybe after the show tonight, I'll ask him to let me have a private interview with the girl I like best. Probably the blonde."

"Captain Wayne's not your buddy," snapped Dent. "And if you think he'll say yes to that ridiculous request, then you really have lost it."

"How much you wanna bet?" asked Joker.

Dent shrugged. "Name it. I'm comfortable betting any amount of money, because it's never gonna happen."

"Well, I won't rip you off, Harv," said Joker. "The meeting with the gal will be a reward in itself, so I'll just bet you a half dollar."

Dent reached into his pocket and pulled out the coin, setting it down on the ground between them. "Done and done," he said. "You know, as much as it'll be nice to see a couple of attractive women perform again, I might be looking forward to your humiliation after the show more than the show itself."

"You and me both, Harv," chuckled Joker, turning up the volume on the radio and returning to his shave with a smile. "You and me both."


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey, who invited the Limeys?" demanded the Joker, looking around at the huge crowd of men assembled in front of the makeshift stage that evening before the show started.

"We don't have women in our camp either – sharing this rare experience with your friends and allies is really the least you can do," said Tetch as he took a seat next to Crane, Joker, and Dent in the front row.

Joker glared at him. "If you've come to borrow some sugar again, Tetchy, you can't have any. This sugar is 100% American grown, so don't go getting any ideas. They're for our mouths only, if you get what I'm saying."

"I honestly haven't the foggiest idea," retorted Tetch. "I know you Yanks don't speak proper English, but sometimes you do mangle the language so as to be completely unrecognizable."

"He's talking about the girls," said Dent, nodding at the still empty stage. "J's delusional enough to think he has a chance with them. He's gonna lose a half dollar."

"I'm gonna gain a half dollar, and a lot more," replied Joker.

"I'm here purely for the entertainment value, I assure you, and not for any more sordid purposes," said Tetch. "I have a sweetheart back home in England."

"Really?" asked Joker, surprised. "A real woman?"

"Yes," replied Tetch. "Her name is Alice. We have an understanding."

"An understanding that she'll pretend to be your girlfriend if you let her outta the cellar once in a while?" asked Joker.

Tetch just looked at him. "Honestly, what is the matter with him?" he asked, turning to Crane.

"God knows," sighed Crane. "But he'll make some psychiatrist very rich after the war is over."

"Hey, pipe down – the entertainment's starting!" snapped Joker, as the lights dimmed, and then focused on the stage. The makeshift curtain was pulled aside to reveal two women in costumes, one a sparkling harlequin outfit, and the other a green, floral number. The men instantly began cheering and hooting.

Harleen beamed out at the crowd, feeling her heart swell with pride at the warm reception. She and Pamela began their routine, which was a song and dance of "Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit-Bag." They finished the number to rapturous applause, and Harleen smiled out at the crowd again, noticing individual faces now, smiling, happy, grateful faces gazing at her in delight…

And then she noticed a man in the front row, who had the appearance of a clown, but that wasn't what caught her attention at first. It was the fact that he had the biggest smile she had ever seen, and it was beaming at her in complete and utter adoration. His beautiful, intense green eyes were fixated on her, and she couldn't help staring back. She smiled shyly at him, and he winked at her. She grinned, and blew a kiss back.

"What are you doing?" hissed Pamela, who noticed the flirting going on between the two.

"Just being friendly," said Harleen.

"Don't be friendly with freaks!" snapped Pamela. "Just focus on the next number!"

Harleen obeyed, but snuck glances at the clown throughout the show. He never took his gorgeous eyes off her, and the beautiful smile never left his face. Harleen's heart beat a little faster, and during the numerous curtain calls that she and Pamela were subjected to, she kept shooting smiles at him.

"God, that clown guy in the front row was real cute," Harleen said, as they made their way back to their tent after the curtain came down at last.

"Clowns aren't cute, Harley," retorted Pamela. "He was a creepy-looking guy. And why do you think he was wearing clown makeup anyway?"

"I dunno – maybe he heard about my name and was a fan," said Harleen, shrugging.

"You shouldn't encourage crazy fans like that," said Pamela. "They don't have any respect for boundaries, trust me. Complete psychos."

"I'm in love," murmured Joker, who remained staring at the empty stage with a goofy grin on his face while the rest of the men filed out. "I'm in love with a clown girl called Harley Quinn."

"Uh huh," said Dent, rolling his eyes. "Sure she's cute, but you don't even know the girl, J…"

"I know that I'm a clown, and she's a clown, so she gets me," said Joker. "I know that she's pretty and fun, and has a great sense of humor. I know that she can sing and dance, and she's patriotic. What more do I need to know?"

"Actually, I didn't think she was the best singer I'd ever heard," said Dent. "Or dancer…"

"Hey, do I insult the girl you love?" demanded Joker.

"Yeah, you said the other day you think she's cheating on me…" began Dent.

"Well, that was before I fell in love," said Joker, waving his hand. "I'm a changed man now, Harv. Love will do that to ya."

"I must say, I also thought Miss Quinn was absolutely charming," said Crane.

"No chance. And stop thinking about my girl like that, Craney, or I'll have to teach you a lesson," snapped Joker.

"She's not your girl – she just flirted with you a little on stage," retorted Dent. "Actresses tend to do that. It doesn't mean anything."

"Think what you want, Harv, but we had a connection," said Joker. "And I'll prove it to you, and win my bet at the same time."

"Now this I gotta see," said Dent, following Joker as he headed toward Captain Wayne's tent.

"Sir, I'd like to request a favor," said Joker, entering and saluting Wayne.

"Another one?" asked Wayne, looking up from the papers he was reading. "The radio this morning wasn't enough?"

"No, sir," said Joker. "You know the girl who just performed, Harley Quinn? I'd like to have a private meeting with her, sir."

Wayne put down the papers. "Unacceptable," he said. "I promised the ladies they wouldn't be bothered by unwanted attention during their time here…"

"You don't know that it's unwanted if you don't give me a shot," retorted Joker.

"The men in my camp will treat women with respect," said Wayne. "I'm not going to leave you alone to have your way with her…"

"Woah, hey, nobody said anything about having their way," interrupted Joker. "I ain't that kinda guy, who meets a woman and then just jumps her. I'd just like to get to know her, sir. I'm in love with her, y'see."

Wayne sighed heavily. "I suppose there's no harm in asking," he said, standing up and leading Joker and Dent over to the women's tent.

"Yes?" demanded Pamela, opening the tent flap and glaring at Joker.

"Miss Isley, one of my men would very much like to meet Miss Quinzel," said Wayne, gesturing at Joker.

"Captain Wayne, I imagine most of your men would very much like to meet Miss Quinzel after being without female companionship for so long," retorted Pamela. "But I don't intend for my friend's first relationship with a man to be based solely around one thing…"

"I ain't that kinda guy," repeated Joker. "I just wanna talk to her."

"Red? Who is it?" asked Harleen, appearing suddenly. She saw Joker and grinned, blushing slightly. "Oh…it's you."

"Miss Quinn," said Joker, bowing and kissing her hand. "My name's the Joker, and…I'm in love with you."

Harleen beamed. "Well…that's very flattering, Mr. Joker. Um…you'd better come in," she said, holding open the tent flap for him. "You can go talk to Captain Wayne in his tent, Red," she said, looking pointedly at Pamela.

"Harley, it's not wise to be alone with a man!" snapped Pamela.

"Well…I'm not very wise, being a clown and all," said Harleen, smiling at Joker. "So…I think we'll be fine."

She shut the tent flap, leaving Pamela and Wayne glaring at it, and Dent staring at it in astonishment. "I think…I just lost a half dollar," he muttered.


	6. Chapter 6

"Do you wanna…take off your makeup?" asked Harleen, gesturing to the basin of water. "I've just been doing the same…"

"Mine's not makeup, I'm afraid," said Joker, smiling. "It's the result of an accident."

"Oh. I'm sorry," said Harleen.

"Don't be," said Joker, shrugging. "It got your attention, at least. And if you ain't repulsed by it, then I don't even care."

"I'm not," replied Harleen, grinning. "I said to Red that…I think you're real cute."

"I think you're real cute too," said Joker, grinning back. "Even without the clown makeup," he added.

Harleen giggled, beaming at him. "You got a great laugh," he continued. "And a great smile."

"Thanks," she replied. "You too. It was the first thing I noticed about you."

"It was the first thing I noticed about you too," said Joker. "The second thing was that you're a terrific dancer. And singer. You sounded great...made a really great…noise. Sorry, I meant that to be more complimentary..."

"No, I'm just glad you liked it," said Harleen. "I sing all the time, but mostly just around the house and stuff. This is my professional debut, actually."

"You mean you're not a famous actress and all?" asked Joker. "Because you kinda got a natural talent for this."

"That's so sweet of you to say," said Harleen, smiling. "I've never had a fan before."

"Well…I've never been a fan of anyone before," said Joker. "Except myself, of course."

"So…why doesn't my fan tell me a little about himself?" asked Harleen.

"Well, my appearance is the result of a failed, top secret government experiment," said Joker. "I tried to join the war early, and the clown face was my reward for that. What else about me is interesting? Oh, I hate Nazis, and I used to have a Nazi scalp collection before my commanding officer thoughtlessly took it away and burned it."

"What did you do before the war?" asked Harleen.

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that," said Joker, shrugging. "Mostly illegal stuff. I hope that doesn't bother you. I mean, I'm not a bad guy. Well, I guess I'm kinda a bad guy, but compared to the Nazis, for instance, I ain't a bad guy."

"At least you're honest," said Harleen. "That's important in a guy, I think. And everyone makes mistakes. At least you're on the side of the good guys now, fighting for your country and to protect innocent people from the Nazis."

"Yeah, Nazis are the worst," said Joker, nodding.

"Gee, your life seems so interesting and exciting compared to mine," said Harleen. "I just finished high school when the war broke out, and I've always had this dream to be a famous movie star. Ever since I was a kid, I'd go to the pictures and see those women up on screen, Ginger Rogers, Greta Garbo, Bette Davis, Jean Harlow, Katharine Hepburn, all of 'em so beautiful and glamorous. I wanted to be just like 'em."

"Well, you got the looks and the talent, so there's really nothing stopping you," said Joker. "All the guys were really impressed with you tonight. I don't see any reason why civilians wouldn't be."

Harleen beamed at him. "You're really sweet, you know," she said.

"Not to most people," replied Joker. "And especially not to Nazis. Only to people I'm in love with, toots," he said, smiling.

"This is kinda like a movie, huh?" asked Harleen, smiling back. "Small town girl next door goes overseas to a warzone to follow her dreams, and meets handsome, dashing bad boy soldier, and it's love at first sight. Ends with the war being over and the good guys winning and the lovers heading off into the sunset together, happily ever after."

"In my experience, life is a lot worse than in celluloid," replied Joker. "But for the first time in my life, I'm beginning to believe in happy endings."

"You are a charmer, Mr. Joker," said Harleen.

"Oh, please, I won't have the woman I love calling me Mr. Joker," said Joker. "Just Joker is fine. Or J."

"Mr. J?" suggested Harleen.

"Mr. J is cute," he said, nodding.

"Suits you then," she replied.

Joker smiled, and then cleared his throat. "Look, I love your sense of humor, but I have…kinda a serious question to ask you, Miss Quinn."

"Harley," corrected Harleen, smiling back at him. "What is it?"

"Well…I know I'm just a pathetic clown, a nameless soldier no better than any other in this camp, and I know I'm completely unworthy of a classy, talented dame like you. But if you'll permit me, while you remain here with us, I'd wonder if you'd do me the indescribable honor of…letting me court you."

Harleen grinned. "What would…courting me entail, Mr. J?"

"Well…I'd get to see you, and talk to you, privately sometimes, like this," he said. "I'd get to do my best to look after you while you're here, and make your stay as pleasant and as comfortable as possible. And…I could tell the guys that you're my girl, which would make me happy beyond reason."

"So…we'd be, sorta, dating?" asked Harleen, slowly.

"Yeah," agreed Joker. "I mean, only if you want to…I won't be offended if you say no. But I know I'm in love with you, and I just want to make you as happy as you've made me feel. It's the only thing I want in the world anymore. Well, except to kill more Nazis so I can replace my Nazi scalp collection."

"I'd really like to experience dating," said Harleen. "And I'd be really happy for you to be the one to help me experience that, Mr. J. I mean, I love you too, after all."

"You do?" asked Joker, hopefully.

"Of course I do," she said, nodding. "Isn't this how it goes in the movies? Love at first sight?"

He grinned. "I think it's exactly how it goes in the movies, toots. Something like that anyway. And then…something like this," he said, putting a hand to her cheek and bringing his mouth down to hers.

Harleen returned the kiss, sighing in delight. "Well…I guess I'm easy," she said when he drew away.

He stared at her. "Uh…does that mean you want me to…make a move or something?"

"What kinda move?" asked Harleen, puzzled.

"Never mind," he said, hastily. "Night, Harley."

"Night, Mr. J," she murmured. Joker grinned at her and then left. Pamela stormed in a moment later.

"What did he do to you?" she demanded.

"Nothing," said Harleen. "We just talked. And then he kissed me goodnight."

"You let him kiss you?" demanded Pamela. "You know that gives guys the wrong impression when you barely know them!"

"Well…gee, Red, I think I can trust him," retorted Harleen. "I love him, after all."

Pamela stared at her. "You don't even know him!" she snapped. "How can you possibly love him?!"

"Love at first sight," retorted Harleen. "Like in the movies."

"Harley, real love doesn't work like that," said Pamela. "Two people don't just meet and decide they're in love and it all works out happily ever after! Real love takes a lotta patience and effort and time before it can grow into something real and strong. What you're feeling right now is attraction and infatuation, but those things fade in time. Love doesn't, but it's not something you instantly feel!"

"I don't think you should claim to know my feelings better than I do," retorted Harleen. "I said I love him, so I do. And even if there are a lotta obstacles to our love, like in the movies, I know it'll eventually conquer all."

"Harley, real life isn't a movie!" snapped Pamela. "This war isn't a movie, and these people aren't characters in a movie! This is a dangerous place full of complex people, people who lie and have ulterior motives and say things they don't mean just to manipulate people. That's what this clown is doing, trust me! He's hoping you'll buy this love crap so you'll lower your defenses and give him what he wants!"

"What's that?" asked Harleen.

"I'll…tell you later," snapped Pamela. "When I've found a dirty book."

"You don't know him, Red," said Harleen.

"Neither do you!" snapped Pamela. "You've known him all of ten minutes!"

"That's enough to know that I'm in love with him," replied Harleen. "Anyway, he's told me all about himself, and he didn't conceal any bad things from me. He hasn't been anything but open and honest and sincere, so why shouldn't I trust him?"

"Because you don't know anything about men!" retorted Pamela. "I do! And trust me, they don't believe a word they say, and you shouldn't either!"

"Red, I know you mean well, but in a battle between my best friend and my heart, my heart's gonna win," replied Harleen. "And the movies are on the side of my heart too, and they can't be wrong."

"Of course they can be wrong!" shouted Pamela. "They're fictional! Hollywood fantasy meant to sell tickets and make money, not a blueprint for how life works!"

"I just don't think you've seen the right movies, Red," said Harleen. "You could stand to be a little more optimistic, you know. If you want our boys to win the war, raising their spirits is important, and you're only gonna raise 'em with a positive attitude. Try to remember that while you're here," she said, patting her on the back and then heading off to change.

It was true Harleen was being a little naïve, but she was right about one thing – in the movies, there were a lot of challenges before the happily ever after ending. And Harleen was about to experience those firsthand.


	7. Chapter 7

"Sir, this just arrived from headquarters," said a soldier, entering Bruce Wayne's tent and saluting.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Grayson," said Wayne, taking the telegram from him. It was short and to the point:

 _Batman_

 _Plans received. Alters timeline of completion – must be sped up. Move your unit closer to target. Enemy will be prepared, so expect resistance. Once target is reached, go in alone, and destroy device. Do not expect rescue if captured - all involvement will be denied. Burn this after reading._

 _Superman._

"Great," sighed Wayne. "Why don't you fly over here and handle this yourself if you're so smart, Kent? Also, Superman's a stupid codename."

He lit a match and burned the telegram as requested, and then went over to his radio. "Hello, this is Wayne. I need an immediate aircraft at Arkham for the return of civilians to the United States – we're moving out and I don't want the women put in harm's way."

"Stand by, Wayne," said a voice on the other end. There was silence for a long time, and then the radio crackled again. "Sorry, sir, no immediate aircraft available."

"I repeat, I have women here, and I don't want them in harm's way," snapped Wayne. "Find an aircraft."

"And I repeat, there are none available at this time," retorted the voice at the other end. "You'll have to delay the move out."

"Negative, that's impossible," snapped Wayne. "It's extremely urgent that we move out immediately. I need that aircraft. Even just a chopper or something to get them to a different unit…"

"There is nothing available at this time," repeated the voice on the other end. "There's nothing I can do, sir. I'm sorry. You'll have to wait, or you'll have to take them with you."

"I am not taking women deeper into a warzone!" snapped Wayne.

"Then delay the move," retorted the voice. "Those are your only options, sir."

The radio clicked off. Wayne stared at it in fury, and then sighed heavily. "Fine," he muttered. "As usual, I'll just have to cope."

He stormed out of his tent. "Lieutenant Grayson, inform the men that we'll be marching out at 0800 hours tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," said Grayson, saluting. "And when is the aircraft coming to pick up Miss Quinzel and Miss Isley?"

"It's not," retorted Wayne. "They're marching with us."

Grayson stared at him. "Sir, we can't deliberately lead them into harm's way…"

"We have no choice, Lieutenant," snapped Wayne. "We urgently need to make progress, and there's no aircraft available to evacuate them. We'll take them in the supply truck, so they won't have to march like the rest of the men."

"And if we encounter the enemy, sir?" asked Grayson.

"We'll deal with that when we come to it," retorted Wayne. "One thing at a time, Lieutenant. And get word to the British camp about the march too. Dismissed."

Grayson saluted and left, while Wayne made his way over to Pamela and Harleen's tent. "Permission to come in, ladies?" he called.

"Permission granted!" said Harleen, cheerfully. "Morning, Brucie! I forgot to ask how you liked the show last night, 'cause I got distracted by my fan and all. Well, I guess he's my boyfriend actually, which is a funny thing to say because I've never had one before, but I've never had a fan before either, so I guess it's no funnier to say than that. Anyway, it was love at first sight for both of us, so that's pretty great."

"You're…dating the Joker?" asked Wayne, slowly. "Did he tell you he…had a Nazi scalp collection?"

"Yeah, he told me you took it away and burned it, and he's pretty steamed at you for it," retorted Harleen. "Said he has to start all his hard work over again now."

"May I ask…why you'd want to date someone who had a Nazi scalp collection?" asked Wayne.

"Well, you can't help who you fall in love with, Brucie," said Harleen, shrugging. "People may not be perfect, but they can be perfect when seen through the eyes of love."

"O…K," said Wayne, slowly, sharing a look with Pamela.

"I don't get it either," she snapped. "But good luck talking her outta it – she's stubborn and nuts."

"I'm not actually here for that," said Wayne. "And you both have bigger problems right now than Miss Quinzel dating the Joker."

"Problems? That doesn't sound good," said Pamela, frowning. "What is it?"

"We've been given urgent orders to move out and press further into enemy territory," said Wayne. "I called for a vehicle to airlift you out, but there are none available at this point in time. So it looks like you're coming with us."

Pamela stared at him. "Coming with you?" she repeated. "Into enemy territory?"

"I'm afraid so. You won't have to walk – we'll take you on the supply truck," said Wayne. "And hopefully there'll be an aircraft available soon. But until then, you're stuck with us, I'm afraid."

"Aw, this is great, Red!" exclaimed Harleen. "This is the time when the boys will really need cheering up and support! We're gonna make a huge difference in morale now!"

"We're gonna be killed!" shouted Pamela. "Or maybe captured by the Nazis, and God knows what they'll do to us!"

"Miss Isley, we'll do our best to keep you out of harm's way," said Wayne. "You have my word."

"I'm sure you will do your best," retorted Pamela. "But that doesn't mean it'll be enough, does it, Captain Wayne?"

"C'mon, Red, we can take care of ourselves," said Harleen. "'We can do it,' like you're always saying! Like Rosie the Riveter says!"

Pamela glared at her. "I want a gun!" she snapped, turning back to Wayne. "A big one!"

"It seems only fair that you're armed," agreed Wayne, nodding. "We aren't moving out until tomorrow morning – we should spend today seeing that you're trained in how to use a gun."

"Oooh, exciting!" exclaimed Harleen. "I've never shot anything before!"

"And here's hoping you'll never have to, Miss Quinzel," said Wayne. "If you'll both follow me."

They crossed the camp to a tent on the other side. "Cobblepot, what have we got in the way of heavy firepower that could still be used by a woman?" asked Wayne, entering the tent.

"We've got a couple of very nice semi-automatics," said Oswald Cobblepot, a short, fat, balding man. "They're a little heavy, and the kickback's pretty strong, but other than pistols, they're the most lightweight thing we got."

"Let 'em try 'em out," said Wayne, gesturing at Pamela and Harleen. Cobblepot handed them a gun each, and Harleen nearly dropped hers.

"Wow, that _is_ heavy," she said. "I'm gonna have a hard time holding this, let alone aiming."

"I've been tightening bolts on planes," said Pamela, adjusting hers. "This is nothing."

"Wait until you shoot it," said Cobblepot. "Well away from camp, please."

"We'll let you practice in the forest," said Wayne. "This way."

"Well, there's a glorious sight!" exclaimed a voice as they left the tent. "My knockout girlfriend with a big gun!"

"Mr. J!" exclaimed Harleen, beaming at the Joker as he approached them with Dent and Crane. "What are you doing here?"

"We're picking up some more rounds from Cobblepot," he said. "We wasted a lot of ours doing target practice at squirrels. Besides, you can't ever have enough ammo, especially since we're moving out tomorrow."

"Yep, and we're coming with you!" exclaimed Harleen. "Ain't that great news?"

Everyone stared at her. "Say…what?" stammered Joker.

"You heard right," snapped Pamela. "There's no aircraft available to evacuate us, so we're coming with you. Into the warzone. Straight into danger."

"Um…Brucie, that's not ok…" said Joker, slowly.

"I know!" snapped Wayne. "But we have no choice! And don't call me Brucie!"

"It'll be fine," said Harleen, shrugging. "Once you guys teach me how to shoot, I'll blast any Nazi who comes near me."

"It's really not that simple, Harley…" began Pamela.

"It is in the movies," said Harleen, puzzled.

"Don't you worry, toots," said Joker, putting a protective arm around her. "Your adoring Mr. J will stay right by your side the whole time, and see that no harm comes to you."

"Joker, much as I hate to admit it, I need you out on the front lines," said Wayne. "You're one of the best men I have for killing Nazis."

Joker looked torn. "Protecting Harley or killing Nazis - don't make me choose!" he pleaded.

"I won't," retorted Wayne. "Your orders are to be on the front lines with the rest of the men. We're going to teach Miss Quinzel and Miss Isley how to defend themselves in case of trouble."

"Well, this looks like a job for her boyfriend!" chuckled Joker. "C'mon, toots! Let's find you some squirrels to shoot at!"

"I can't believe he's actually her boyfriend," growled Crane, watching them head into the woods on the outskirts of camp.

"You and me both," agreed Pamela. "I'm pretty sure literally any other man here would be a better choice."

"Yes, well, do tell her that," said Crane. "And tell her that literally every other man here would be willing. Including myself."

"Not me," said Dent. "Nothing personal, it's just that I'm engaged."

"Oh. Kinda a shame," said Pamela lightly. "I mean, for Harley's sake, of course. At least you're…kinda cute."

"Yeah? You really think so?" asked Dent.

"Oh yeah – tall, muscular, handsome…" murmured Ivy, looking him up and down.

"Engaged," reminded Dent.

"Yeah, engaged," said Ivy, hastily. "I was just getting to that one."

"This is a warzone, Miss Isley, and no place for romance," snapped Wayne. "I wouldn't recommend getting attached to any of the men, and the same goes for Miss Quinzel. We're likely to encounter enemy combatants where we're headed, and it's possible that any man here could be killed. That's just the way it is in wars."

"Don't worry, Captain Wayne," retorted Pamela. "I don't get attached to men. And as for Harley…well, she's probably gonna have to learn the hard way what war is really like."


	8. Chapter 8

"Did you know that the German word for drive is _fahrt_?" said Joker, as he, Captain Wayne, Dent, and Crane walked next to the supply truck the next day as they moved further into enemy territory. "Isn't that hysterical?"

"It would be, if we hadn't heard it almost every day since arriving in Germany," muttered Dent.

"Harley hadn't heard it, Harv," snapped Joker. "And if you want to wish someone a pleasant drive in German, you say _gute fahrt_! Like, what kinda joke of a language is this?" he giggled. "No wonder they're losing the war!"

Harleen giggled too, beaming at Joker. "You're so funny, Mr. J!" she exclaimed.

"Well, I try," agreed Joker. "Actually, I don't have to try, because I'm just naturally funny. I would say it's the result of my accident, but I was hysterically funny before that too."

"Yeah, keep deluding yourself," muttered Dent. "Miss Isley, you don't have to keep hold of that gun as if for dear life, you know," he commented, nodding at Pamela as she clutched her gun with white knuckles.

"How do you know?" she demanded. "What if there's a surprise attack by the Nazis? I'm prepared – you people aren't!"

"Miss Isley, we have expert intelligence services spying on the Nazis's movements 24/7," replied Captain Wayne. "Trust me, there won't be a surprise attack. It would be utterly impossible for them to get the jump on us…"

A rocket exploding just in front of the truck at that moment cut him off. The explosion sent the truck skidding off the road and onto its side, where it burst into flames. "Harley!" shouted Joker, hurrying toward it.

"Get the women outta there before it explodes the ammo!" shouted Wayne, who was firing back at the sudden burst of gunfire surrounding them from the forest. The flames from the explosion surrounded the truck, licking at its wheels and inching closer to its engine and cargo.

"Mr. J!" shrieked Harleen, who was trying to pull herself out of the flaming truck. Joker seized Harleen around the waist and tossed her over his shoulder.

"Where's your gal pal?" he shouted, trying to see through the smoking, flaming wreckage.

"I dunno!" shrieked Harleen.

"Over here!" shouted a voice. Joker followed it to see Pamela trapped by a pile of ammo falling onto her legs. Joker grabbed her hand and tried to drag her out, but the weight pressing against her only made her scream in pain as he tried to move her. Joker tried to shift the ammo boxes, but they were too heavy for him to accomplish on his own.

"I need help over here!" he shouted.

"We need help over here!" shouted back Crane, as he and the others fired back into the surrounding trees. "They've pinned us down!"

Dent glanced over at Joker's situation, then swore loudly, racing toward him through the hail of bullets. He reached Joker miraculously unscathed, and together they managed to move the ammo boxes off Pamela. "Gimme my gun!" shouted Pamela, as Dent helped her to her feet. He obeyed, and she seized it, firing back out at the enemy as Dent began to drag her away from the truck. Joker had Harleen shoved behind him as he fired into the trees, glancing at the flames getting closer and closer to the truck.

"Heads down, everyone!" he shouted, shoving Harleen to the ground and throwing himself over her protectively. "It's gonna blow!"

He glanced up to see Dent still trying to pull Pamela away – he clearly hadn't heard the warning over the sound of her gunfire. "Harvey!" shouted Joker. "Get down!"

The truck exploded at that moment, sending a barrage of shrapnel and metal flying through the air. Through the blinding, choking smoke, Joker heard a strangled cry close to him, and looked down to see that Dent had fallen to the ground, clutching his face.

"Craney!" shouted Joker. "Harvey's hurt – get over here!"

"Everyone's hurt – just a second!" shouted back Crane. "There's tons of wounded men and only one of me, you know!"

"It's urgent!" shouted Joker, as Pamela knelt down next to Dent, trying to soothe him.

Crane crawled toward them carefully as the other men finally began to get the upper hand in the ambush. The shots from the forest lessened, and then ceased altogether as the enemy retreated.

"So much for no ambush," muttered Joker, embracing Harleen tenderly and glaring at Captain Wayne. "Next time why doncha say that it would utterly impossible for us all to be millionaires or something?"

"Shut up!" snapped Wayne. "Obviously this info slipped past our sources!"

He headed over to where Crane was examining Dent's face. Dent had lost consciousness from the pain. "How is he?" asked Wayne.

Crane sighed heavily. "The good news is, half of his face is fine. The bad news is, half of his face is not fine."

"Yeah, try not to break it to him in those terms when he wakes up," said Joker.

"It's my fault," muttered Pamela. "He was only near the truck because he came to help me…"

"It wasn't your fault," interrupted Wayne. "Nobody could have seen this coming."

"Really? Because I could have seen an attack in a warzone coming," retorted Pamela, coldly. "Harley and me shouldn't even be here in the first place. If we hadn't been, we'd be safe, and he'd still be fine. Instead, he's been horribly disfigured, probably permanently. And we're anything but safe."

Harleen was shaking in fear, tears trailing down her cheeks despite Joker's attempts to calm her. She began sobbing.

"We're gonna need all able-bodied men to carry the wounded," said Wayne. "There are a lot of them."

"Did we lose anyone?" asked Joker.

Crane nodded. "Nygma."

"Oh good, I hated him!" said Joker, brightening.

"Yes, no loss, really," agreed Crane.

"And you know what this means, toots?" asked Joker, smiling at Harleen.

"What?" she asked, wiping her eyes.

"It means I can restart my Nazi scalp collection!" he exclaimed. "Back in a second!" he said, withdrawing his knife and heading off into the surrounding forest.

"Captain, there's no point in moving further today," said Crane. "There are too many wounded, and we won't make good progress. They need rest and relaxation and time to heal."

"We don't have time, Crane," snapped Wayne.

"Then we will lose more men!" snapped Crane. "How many lives are you willing to sacrifice for this war?"

"As many as it takes until we win!" snapped Wayne. "Trust me, there's more at stake here than you can possibly understand! The Nazis have one last, desperate move planned, and if they can't win this war, they'll see to it that nobody can! The only thing that stands between them and the world's total destruction is us!"

"What are you talking about?" asked Crane. "What last, desperate move?"

"That's classified information, soldier," snapped Wayne. "Just have the able-bodied men gather up the wounded and keep marching. That's an order."

"C'mon, Harley," murmured Pamela, helping her friend to her feet. "We can walk. Assuming we don't step on a land mine, of course."

Harleen shook her head. "I can't do it, Red," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "I'm scared. I wanna go home."

"So do I," murmured Pamela. "But we can't. So we just have to put on a brave face, like these guys do," she said, gesturing around.

"Good news, everyone!" announced the Joker, emerging from the woods with something in his hands. "Eighteen new Nazi scalps! That'll make you smile if anything will, huh?"

No one did smile, as they silently began to try to move the wounded. "Joker, get Dent," snapped Wayne. "And put away those scalps, for goodness sake! Haven't we had enough of the horrors of war?"

"Hey, I can never have enough," said Joker, shrugging, as he went to hoist Dent over his shoulder. He saw Harleen shivering and sobbing next to him. "You ok, kid?" he asked, gently.

She shook her head. Joker took her hand. "Everything's gonna be all right," he murmured. "I promise. You gotta trust me, toots."

"How do you know?" she whispered.

"I don't," he said, shrugging. "But you gotta trust me all the same. Just put one foot in front of the other, and walk. You can do it, sweets. Baby steps, that's how you do everything, from heading down a road to winning a war. Baby steps."

He smiled at her, and she took a deep breath and her first step forward. "Feel better already, huh?" he asked as they walked together.

"Not really," she murmured.

"Well, smile and maybe you will," he said. "Just like your song says - a smile makes everything better. It always works for me. A smile and a collection of Nazi scalps," he said, patting them at his belt. "What can I say? I'm a simple man with simple pleasures."

Harleen did manage a smile at this. But she didn't feel much better.


	9. Chapter 9

"Heard you lot were ambushed," commented Jervis Tetch as the American troops made camp for the night next to the British camp. "Hard luck."

"There's that English sense of understatement," retorted Joker, as he placed a still unconscious Harvey Dent down on one of the makeshift beds in Crane's hastily constructed medical tent.

"Good Lord," murmured Tetch, gazing at Dent's face. "Is he going to be all right?"

"Probably not," retorted Crane, shoving them both out of the way as he tried to scrutinize Dent's wounds from the light of a lantern. "Would you be all right if half of your face was blown off? Aside from the physical damage, the psychological damage is very hard to gauge at this point."

"Well, I suppose it could be worse," said Tetch. "He could be dead. And he's got that nice fiancee waiting for him when he gets back home - I'm sure she won't care what he looks like as long as he's alive."

"You have a lot more faith in her than I do," retorted Joker. "People are ultimately really superficial. I'm betting she's gonna take one look at him, and then dump him faster than a body weighed down with a ton of bricks."

"What a very pleasant image," sighed Tetch.

"You want pleasant images – I got some new Nazi scalps," said Joker. "Wanna see?"

"No, thank you," replied Tetch, hastily. "How are the women after the attack?"

"They're holding up," said Joker. "Harley's a lot stronger than her gal pal gives her credit for. She'll be fine."

"War affects us all, sadly," sighed Tetch. "Even the strongest of us are not immune to its horror."

"I'm pretty sure a man who collects Nazi scalps is," muttered Crane, reaching for some bandages.

"Is Dent awake yet?" asked Captain Wayne, entering the tent.

"No, sir," replied Crane. "But he's also not dead yet, which is almost a miracle after the pace you've been setting."

"I told you, it's imperative that we reach our target destination as quickly as possible," snapped Wayne. "For classified reasons."

He reached into his pocket. "This came for Dent the night before we broke camp," he said, withdrawing a sealed envelope. "It's from his fiancee. I meant to give it to him before the march, but I had…a lot on my mind."

"Well, if he dies, you should open it up and read it out," said Joker. "Might be good for a laugh, y'know, her pouring out words of affection and love to a guy who's never coming back."

"Why would that be good for a laugh?" asked Wayne, puzzled.

"Well, what else can you do in that situation but laugh?" asked Joker, shrugging.

"You have an…odd sense of humor," commented Tetch.

"There's the English understatement again," muttered Crane, tying up the bandages. Just as he did, Dent's eyes opened slowly.

"Hey, Harv, how ya feeling?" asked Joker, cheerfully.

"Terrible," muttered Dent, wincing in pain. "What the hell happened? I can't feel half my face – it's like it's gone numb…"

"Numb is better than pain," said Crane, shooting a syringe into Dent's arm.

"Son of a…why don't you warn people before you stick needles into 'em?" snapped Dent.

"If you warn people, they tense up," snapped Crane. "Which causes more pain. It's a psychological reflex, largely uncontrollable, the fear of being pierced with needles. Fascinating that even in a warzone, the overriding fear of death still gives way to smaller terrors…"

"Yada, yada, yada, you're boring, somebody tell him about his face," said Joker. "I wanna see his face when he hears!" he giggled.

"What about my face?" asked Dent.

"No, Joker, let's give him the letter from his fiancee first," snapped Wayne. "A little pleasant distraction at a time like this is no bad thing."

"I got a letter from Grace?" asked Dent.

"Yes, I forgot to give it to you before we moved out," said Wayne, handing it to him. "Hopefully something to lift your spirits after being wounded."

"I'm sure it is," said Dent, nodding as he opened the letter. "Grace is such a great gal – she always knows just what to say to make me feel…"

He trailed off as he read the letter, and the half of his face that wasn't covered in bandages fell in shock and horror. "No," he whispered. "No, this can't be…is this some kinda…sick joke?"

"Hey, don't look at me – I haven't even seen your stupid letter," retorted Joker. "Why, what's it say?"

"She's…she's breaking up with me," stammered Dent. "She's found…someone else. Says it was too hard…being away from me for so long…to stay faithful…I don't believe this. I can't believe this, I…Grace wouldn't do that…I know her, she wouldn't…"

"Ok, well, you need rest and not to think about that," said Wayne hastily, snatching the letter back from him. "We want you fighting fit, after all. Crane, can you give him a sedative or something…"

"Aw, but we haven't given him the punchline yet!" chuckled Joker. "Tough luck about your fiancee, Harv. How could this day get any worse, right? To answer that, take a look in a mirror!"

"Joker, for God's sake!" snapped Crane.

"What's he talking about?" demanded Dent, raising a hand up to his bandaged face. "What's wrong with my face?!"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with now," retorted Crane. "I've just bandaged it up, and the last thing you need is to remove the bandages and cause more damage…"

"What does it matter anymore?!" roared Dent, suddenly furious. "The woman I love has left me, and I'm in the middle of a war with nothing to fight for! What does it matter how badly I'm wounded?! I've lost the love of my life – I'll never find another! I might as well be dead, and God, I wish I was before I coulda found out that my years of dreaming of coming home to a loving fiancee were all just a buncha crap!"

He tore the bandages off, ripping the fabric away from his raw skin. "Speaking of crap," said Joker, holding up the mirror and smiling. "Say hello to the new you!"

Dent stared at his reflection, at the ugly, scarred mess that was half of his face. Then he roared again, punching a fist through the mirror and shattering it.

"Hey, that's seven years bad luck, and you've already had enough bad luck for now…" began Joker, but he was also swiftly punched in the face by Dent, as he sprang to his feet, lashing out at everyone and everything.

"God, Crane, sedate him now!" shouted Wayne.

"I can't get near him like this!" shouted back Crane. "He's insane!"

"Joker, this is your fault, so help me restrain him!" shouted Wayne, attempting to tackle Dent.

"How is it my fault?!" demanded Joker. "I'm not the one who broke up with him, or disfigured his face so horribly that no one could ever possibly love him again!"

Dent punched him again, and Joker shouted, "All right, well, now it's personal!", launching himself at Dent. Eventually, Joker and Wayne managed to pin him down, while Crane injected a sedative into him. It gradually took effect, and Joker and Wayne slowly released him, while Crane attempted to lift him back onto the bed.

"To answer your question, Jervis, no, he's not going to be all right," snapped Crane. "His physical wound will never heal, and I'm pretty sure his mental ones won't either."

"The poor man," murmured Tetch. "War is an abominable business."

"Speak for yourself," retorted Joker. "I love it – so much potential for comedy, like our friend Harvey here. I hope it never ends."

"It will," growled Wayne, turning and storming from the tent. "And sooner rather than later. I'm going to see to it personally."


	10. Chapter 10

"How are we doing, ladies?" asked Joker, entering Harleen and Pamela's tent later.

"Fine. How's Mr. Dent doing?" asked Pamela.

"Oh, he's…uh…sedated right now," said Joker. "His face is pretty messed up, and that on top of his fiancee sending him a Dear John has kinda…broken his mind."

"What's a Dear John?" asked Harleen.

"Breakup letter," explained Joker. "It's fairly common – hard for the gals having their guys away for so long. Of course it's also hard for us, being away from the gals for so long, plus being stuck in a warzone day after day, but they don't think about that, buncha self-centered, inconsiderate, heartless…"

"Hey, don't tar all women with the same brush!" interrupted Pamela. "We came over here to cheer you up, after all!"

"And I'm sure it was my Harley girl's idea," said Joker, nodding. "Because she's not like other dames. She's sweet and kind and special."

"Well…it was Harley's idea, but that still doesn't mean you should tar all women with the same brush!" snapped Pamela. "I never broke up with a guy overseas. I broke up with 'em before they left."

"I take it back, Pammie – you're the soul of consideration," retorted Joker, sarcastically.

"I regret coming over here now, if that's what you mean," snapped Pamela. "And I'm sure Harley does too."

"I don't," murmured Harleen. "I mean…that attack was a horrible experience, but…if I hadn't come over here, I never woulda met my true love," she said, smiling at Joker.

"There ya go, that's my special gal!" exclaimed Joker, kissing her cheek. "Always looking on the bright side of life! Every cloud has a silver lining, right, kiddo?"

"What's the silver lining that Mr. Dent has from having his face blown off and his fiancee dumping him?" asked Pamela.

"Well…it gives him the opportunity to find a new dame," said Joker, slowly. "A better dame. One who enjoys looking at permanently scarred and damaged flesh, and one who might actually be turned on by it. I'm sure someone somewhere has that kinda fetish…"

"Mr. J's right – it's good he found out her true nature sooner rather than later," agreed Harleen, nodding. "Now he can go find a gal worthy of him."

"Which I'm sure will be really easy to do with a disfigured face," sighed Pamela. "I don't know what delusional planet you two live on, but you need to come back down to earth."

"No point – as long as my Harley girl's on the same planet as me, I don't need anything else on earth," retorted Joker, kissing her tenderly.

She giggled. "Ain't he just the most romantic guy in the world, Red?" Harleen sighed.

"Yeah, he talks big," said Pamela, nodding. "I've heard crap like that from a lotta guys in my time. Words don't mean a thing, Harley. You gotta judge a guy from his actions."

"Well, he charged toward a flaming, explosive truck to save me," said Harleen. "I think that's the action of a guy who really cares about me."

"Well, he cares about something," retorted Pamela. "If you blow up, his one chance for it is gone until the war finishes."

"What are you talking about?" asked Harleen.

"J, do you have a dirty book on hand?" asked Pamela. "This is getting really awkward for me."

"Nope, don't use 'em myself," replied Joker. "But Harvey might need one after this – it's probably the only kinda action he's gonna get from now on. Craney might have one – it's the only kinda action he's probably ever gotten. Why?"

"Harley just needs to understand some things about the facts of life," said Pamela.

"Why doncha just tell her?" he asked.

"Why don't you?" she retorted. "You're her boyfriend."

"Why would I tell her when I can show her?" replied Joker with a grin.

"Because she doesn't know what she's consenting to!" snapped Pamela. "And I'm not letting you do anything to her without her consent!"

"Hey, you're not her mother!" snapped Joker. "Or mine! We don't need your permission to do anything! We're two grown, consenting adults!"

"I just told you, Harley doesn't know what she's consenting to!" snapped Pamela.

"Red, whatever it is, I trust Mr. J," said Harleen. "He loves me, and he wouldn't do anything that would hurt me."

"Well…it might hurt a little at first, but it'll pass fairly quickly," said Joker. "I mean, you can't have pleasure without a little bit of pain first – that's one of my facts of life!" he chuckled.

"I suppose…no pain, no gain, as the saying goes," said Harleen, slowly.

"I've got a better saying for you, Harl," snapped Pamela. "Insane, homicidal clowns are not good boyfriend material, and you shouldn't do anything this one says!"

"Red, can you leave us alone to talk, please?" asked Harleen.

"No!" snapped Pamela. "I'm not leaving you alone with him again, now that I know what his true intentions are! Now get out of our tent!"

"Red, please…" began Harleen.

"No, no, I'll go," said Joker. "Don't wanna start a fight between you both, at least, not without inviting the other guys to watch it!" he chuckled. "I'll see you around, toots. Ok if I hug and kiss my girlfriend goodnight, Pammie?"

"Fine, but make it quick," snapped Pamela. "And no wandering hands!"

"Y'know, Pammie, I think you might be more comfortable joining the side of the enemy too," muttered Joker. "They like telling people what to do and repressing fun as well."

He embraced Harleen, kissing her cheek and whispering, "Meet me at the edge of the forest in an hour, after the Weed Lady's gone to sleep. Then at least we can see each other without some overprotective plant harpy breathing down our necks, and I might even have a little surprise for you."

Harleen nodded slightly, and kissed him tenderly on the lips. "I'll be there, I promise," she whispered. "Night, Mr. J," she said, as he left them.

Unfortunately, Joker had vastly overestimated the time it took Pamela to drop off to sleep – after the excitement of the day, she was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, about half an hour later. Harleen decided to head out early, since she had nothing better to do, and if she hung around her own tent, she might wake up Pamela again.

She had just reached the edge of the forest when she suddenly saw a dark shape vanish into the woods. "Mr. J?" she called. "Is that you?"

There was no response. Harleen remembered that she was early – maybe that was Mr. J setting up the surprise for her in the forest. It couldn't hurt to check anyway – even if that wasn't him, he'd be here soon.

She tentatively stepped into the woods, and instantly felt her heart begin to pound in fear, as even a few steps in made the forest feel like it was closing in on her. "This must be why all the German fairytales have unpleasant stories about kids getting lost in woods," she whispered to herself. "And wolves lurking in woods, and witches' houses, and…"

She heard a rustle off to her left. "Mr. J?" she called again, but it came out as no more than a squeak. The rustle came from a figure which she caught a glimpse of just as it disappeared off into the trees– a man in a bat costume.

Whoever it was, it wasn't Mr. J, she thought, turning to head back to camp. And it was creepy being out here alone with freaks in costumes. She wanted to get back to the lights of the camp as soon as possible, and into the safe, warm, comforting arms of her Mr. J…

But as she looked around, the dense, dark forest seemed to surround her completely. She couldn't tell which way was back, and her heart-rate increased as her fear mounted. "Mr. J!" she tried shouting, but she only managed a whisper.

"Think, Harley," she whispered to herself. "You can't have gone far – there's gotta be some way to navigate in the dark. Maybe by the stars?"

She glanced up, but no sky was visible through the impenetrable canopy of trees. "Just don't panic," she whispered, trying to calm herself. "You're not that far from camp – if you manage to shout for help, Mr. J will find you."

She nodded and took a deep breath. "Mr. J!" she called, the cry loud enough to startle a surrounding owl. "There you go – good job," she whispered to herself encouragingly. "Now give it a few moments and shout again. He's sure to hear you and come find you eventually. Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all."

She heard someone heading through the forest toward her. "See? There he is now," she whispered. "Mr. J, thank God! I was just about to start…panicking…"

She trailed off in horror as the person who stepped out of the trees revealed himself, and it wasn't the Joker. It was another soldier in a uniform. A Nazi uniform.

He had a gun pointed at her, and Harleen was paralyzed from terror.

" _Was ist das?_ " called another voice, as another man emerged from the trees. " _Hast du den Fledermausmann gefunden?_ "

" _Nein, es ist eine Frau_ ," replied the first man, looking at Harleen suspiciously as he held his gun on her. " _Amerikanisch oder Britisch_. _Was sollen wir mit ihr zu tun?_ "

Harleen had no idea what they were saying, but she didn't need to – the butt of the gun being slammed against her knees and knocking her to the ground said more than words ever could. She felt one of the men tying her arms behind her back. The other had his hand clapped over her mouth, and before she realized what was happening, found herself tossed over the shoulder of one of the Nazis. Her screams and struggles were useless as she was carried off, further and further into the all consuming darkness of the forest.


	11. Chapter 11

One minute past their scheduled meeting time, Joker knew something was wrong. Harleen wouldn't be late for no good reason – it was likely that interfering plant busybody had found out about what Harleen was up to and put a stop to it. Joker stormed over to their tent intending to have a very strong word with Pamela, but was surprised to see it completely dark inside.

"Where is she?" he demanded, storming in.

"Where is…who?" yawned Pamela, blinking sleepily. She woke up instantly as Joker kicked her hard in the stomach, seizing her around the throat and dragging her to her feet.

"Don't play dumb with me!" he snapped. "Where is Harley?!"

"I thought she was asleep!" snapped Pamela, glancing over at Harleen's bed, which was empty. "What are you doing poking around here while she's supposed to be sleeping anyway?" she demanded.

"I was supposed to be meeting her outside the forest, but she hasn't showed up!" retorted Joker. "What have you done to keep her from meeting me?!"

"I haven't done anything!" snapped Pamela. "Maybe she just came to her senses and realized how stupid it would be to be meeting a man like you in a dark forest!"

"Not _in_ the forest, outside of the…" Joker trailed off, releasing her suddenly and racing out of the tent towards the woods. "Harley!" he shouted, heading into the trees. "Harley, are you in here? Harl…"

He paused, kneeling down as he noticed several sets of footprints on the ground. His eyes narrowed and he let out a stream of swear words as he headed back toward camp.

"Did you find her?" demanded Pamela.

"No," snapped Joker, storming toward his tent. "She's been taken."

"Taken?" repeated Pamela. "What do you mean taken?"

"I mean she's been kidnapped!" he snapped, rounding on her. "I found her footprints surrounded by booted ones. And there's only one kinda people who wear boots that make those prints."

He grabbed several more of his guns and knives and various weapons. "Looks like I'll be adding to my Nazi scalp collection real soon," he muttered.

"Nazis?" repeated Pamela. "Harley's been kidnapped by Nazis?! Wait a minute – I'm coming with you to find her!" she snapped as Joker headed back toward the forest.

"No, you ain't," he retorted. "I'm not looking after your sorry ass out there in the wild."

"I don't need you to – I can look after myself!" snapped Pamela. "I certainly don't need any man to do that! Just let me get my gun!"

Joker rolled his eyes. "Fine!" he snapped. "But only because I might need someone to use as Nazi bait!"

"How are you even going to track them in the dark?" demanded Pamela, as they entered the woods.

"I'll track 'em," muttered Joker. "I can smell 'em a mile off, all beer and bratwurst and sauerkraut."

"You didn't smell that ambush coming," reminded Pamela.

"I was distracted telling jokes to Harley," retorted Joker. "Trust me, I'll find 'em now. I just gotta think the exact opposite way that I usually do. See?" he said, pointing off into the woods, where Pamela could see that the foliage had been trampled. "I woulda taken a haphazard route to avoid detection, but Nazis are taught to march in a straight line, because that's orderly. And their goosestepping means they disturb the plants at knee height. Easy."

"My poor babies," murmured Pamela, staring in pity at the plants.

"Just keep up, Weed Lady," snapped Joker, heading deeper into the forest.

They came at last to an outcropping of rocks which dropped off into a steep cliff. Below the cliff was a valley, and peering over the edge, Joker and Pamela saw a huge castle, with blazing lights coming from the inside, and Nazi banners draping the outside.

"What the hell is that?" whispered Pamela.

"Dunno," said Joker. "But Harley's either in there, or somebody in there will know where she is. And I'm gonna make 'em talk," he said, pulling out his gun.

"Are you insane?" demanded Pamela. "We can't head straight into a castle swarming with enemies! There are two of us, and probably hundreds of them! We'll be killed!"

"Or, because there are two of us, we're less likely to be noticed," retorted Joker. "The other option is to go back to camp and try to convince the rest of the army to join us, and we'll probably still be outnumbered even if they do. Plus draw a lot more attention to ourselves. Anyway, I know Captain Wayne, and I doubt that hardass bastard will send his men into danger to rescue a lady. He believes the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few and all that crap. Well, I don't care about the needs of the many – all I care about is getting Harley back from those heiling, humorless Hessians! And Captain Wayne may believe that one life is worth sacrificing to save a thousand, but I sure as hell don't!"

"I don't believe that!" said a voice behind them. Pamela screamed as she turned around to see a man in a bat costume.

"Don't shoot him!" snapped Joker, knocking her gun from her hands. "It's Captain Wayne."

"What the hell is he doing here…and dressed in a bat costume?!" demanded Pamela.

"The more relevant question is what are you both doing here?" demanded Batman.

"We were tracking Harley," said Joker. "She's been kidnapped by the Nazis. Their trail led us here."

Batman stared at him. "Miss Quinzel's been kidnapped by Nazis? How did that happen?"

"Long story, which I don't have time for now," retorted Joker. "I'm going in."

"Negative, soldier!" snapped Batman, grabbing his arm. "That castle is a highly secure fortress – you'll never get in without my help."

"Ok, so come with me," retorted Joker.

"Negative – you're a loose cannon," retorted Batman. "And more of a risk than I'm willing to take. I need to infiltrate that castle unnoticed, with subtlety and stealth and speed, and I don't need to be accompanied by a guy who enjoys making loud jokes, and who can't resist killing a Nazi when he sees one."

"I'm not letting you go in to rescue Harley alone!" snapped Joker. "I don't trust you to bring her back, because obviously she's not what you're here for."

"No," agreed Batman. "I'm here for the device. I need to find it, and destroy it. And that device is locked up tight inside _Schloss Fledermaus_ , a top secret, highly guarded Nazi stronghold," he said, nodding at the castle.

"What does _Schloss Fledermaus_ mean?" asked Pamela.

"Bat Castle," replied Batman.

"Wait a minute…the German for bat is _Fledermaus_?" asked Joker. "As in…flying mouse?"

"Yes," said Batman, nodding.

"So that would make you… _Fledermausmann_ ," said Joker, slowly. "As in…Flying Mouse Man."

He burst out laughing hysterically. "Oh God, that's hilarious! I love it! I'm calling you that from now on!"

"See, this is what I don't need!" hissed Batman, clapping a hand over his mouth to silence him. "Random bursts of maniacal laughter will be the just the thing to draw attention to ourselves, which is why you're not accompanying me!"

"Look, Flying Mouse Man," snapped Joker. "I _am_ going with you. Or I'm heading back to the camp to tell everyone that you're Flying Mouse Man, a secret agent for the government who has been leading his men straight into danger because he has some top secret government work to do. If you think there won't be a mutiny against you that will ruin all your secret government work, then you don't know the kinda lunatics we have in Camp Arkham!"

Batman looked murderous. "All right!" he hissed at last. "But you have to swear to do exactly what I tell you, and be completely silent!"

"Can do, Flying Mouse Man," said Joker, saluting.

"I'm coming with you too," said Pamela, firmly.

"You most certainly are not…" began Batman.

"Or I'm telling the guys about Flying Mouse Man," finished Pamela, folding her arms across her chest.

Batman growled. "Same goes for you," he hissed. "Not a word, or I'll silence you myself. This is too important an operation to be ruined by careless talk or stupid mistakes."

"Yeah, people who dress up in bat costumes should really lecture other people about stupidity," retorted Pamela.

Joker chuckled. "Y'know, maybe I was wrong about you, Weed Lady," he said. "You're all right. But then again, your own stupidity did get Harley kidnapped, so actually you're not all right, and if you get yourself killed in that castle, I'm not gonna mourn you."

"Same to you," replied Pamela. "If Harley's still alive, at least she'll be able to find a better boyfriend once you're dead."

"No fighting amongst yourselves either," snapped Batman. "Everyone just shut up and follow me."

"Hang on a second, Flying Mouse Man," said Joker. "If we're heading inside to rescue Harley and find and destroy this device, don't you think you should tell us what it is, so we'll recognize it if we see it?"

"Believe me, you'll know it when you see it," retorted Batman. "It's the Nazis's secret weapon, and it looks like how you'd imagine a secret weapon to look."

"What, it's like a really big gun?" asked Joker.

"Yes," replied Batman.

"And what does the really big gun do?" asked Joker.

"That's classified, soldier," retorted Batman. "You don't need to know what it does. You just need to know that it needs to be destroyed, for the sake of all mankind. It should never have been invented, and after we destroy it, we'll see that it never is invented again."

"Well, that seems unlikely," said Joker. "The guy who invented it can probably duplicate it – he probably took notes at least."

"The man who invented it, if he's still alive, didn't want to help the Nazis in the first place," muttered Batman. "And certainly wouldn't have if we had been able to get him out of Germany before they could find him. Unfortunately once they did, they forced him to help them."

"If he invented a thing that could destroy the world, surely he should have chosen death before he shared it with the Nazis," said Joker.

"They probably tortured him pretty horribly," said Pamela. "Not everyone is strong enough to withstand that, even if it means making it stop will result in everyone on earth being killed."

"He doesn't care about everyone on earth," retorted Batman. "Just like you didn't care about sacrificing the lives of your comrades to rescue Harley, Joker. To some men, a single person is more important than all the rest of humanity put together. And that's who the Nazis tortured. Not him, but his wife."


	12. Chapter 12

Harleen's continued struggling and attempted screaming had resulted in one of the Nazis knocking her unconscious. She awoke to complete darkness, lying on a cold, stone floor. She sat up slowly, trying to make out anything in the dark. She suddenly heard someone coughing near her.

"Hello?" called Harleen.

The coughing continued, a gasping, choking sound, as if the person couldn't get enough air to draw breath. "H…hello," it gasped at last, in the voice of a woman.

"Can you…tell me where I am?" asked Harleen, slowly.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you…you're in the dungeons of _Schloss Fledermaus_ ," whispered the voice. "It's a secret…Nazi stronghold...and research facility."

The coughing resumed, ragged and horrible. "Are you ok?" asked Harleen.

"No," whispered the voice. "I think I'm dying."

Harleen felt her way across the stone floor and made contact with the woman at last, touching her hand. It was icy cold. "Maybe you just need a little warming up…" began Harleen.

The voice choked out a laugh, which ended in a cough. "I only wish it were that simple," she whispered, curling her hand into Harleen's. "But it's nice to have company again anyway. My name is Nora Fries."

"No fooling?" asked Harleen. "Kinda a funny last name…"

"My husband's," whispered Nora. "He's German. He's the reason…I'm here."

"He locked you up in here?" guessed Harleen.

"No," whispered Nora. "He'd never do that – he'd do anything in the world to protect me. I know that now. I'm…American but…came over here to be with him…before the war started. We met when he was visiting the States for a conference, and fell instantly in love. He couldn't get a visa to immigrate, so it was really the only way we could be together. We were happy…before the war broke out. And then the Nazis came for him. He's a…scientist, you see, specializing in cryogenics. The Nazis wanted to use his genius for the war effort. Victor refused. He tried to smuggle us out of the country, but…they caught us. They tried to force Victor to work for them, but he continued to refuse. So they turned their force on me."

She hacked out a few deep coughs again. "They infected me with…some kind of experimental virus. They promised Victor they'd give him the cure if he did what they wanted. So he did. But after he'd built this secret weapon the Nazis had requested, they went back on their deal. Told him there was no cure, and that I was going to die anyway. They've kept him here and given him access to a laboratory, threatening to kill me sooner unless he continues to do research for them, but his only preoccupation is finding a cure for the virus for me. To be honest, I think they enjoy watching him struggle to create an antidote to something that can't be cured. I think it amuses them."

She burst into a coughing fit again. "What kinda secret weapon is it that he's built?" asked Harleen.

"It's an ice ray," whispered Nora. "One blast of it will freeze everything within a hundred mile radius. If the Nazis think the tide of the war is turning against them, which it is, they will use it to cover the world in ice. It will freeze entire armies in their tracks, halt the process of time itself, until the Nazis can rebuild their forces and win the war once and for all. And it will leave the world a barren, desolate place, where nothing grows and nothing lives except all that is cold and cruel. This is the Nazis's new vision of the future. A way to wipe all of humanity from the planet, except the select few, and start again to build a better, new world order. And the unwilling horseman of this apocalypse is my poor, poor Victor, who brought it about for my sake."

She launched into another fit of coughing. Harleen wished there was something she could say or do, but she also felt pretty hopeless right now. She squeezed Nora's hand tightly and whispered, "It's…gonna be all right. I'm sure somehow…it's gonna be all right."

Nora managed another quiet laugh. "You and Victor – the eternal optimists. I wish I had your faith."

"Well, we can't give up hope," said Harleen. "That's all we've got left."

They heard the screech of the cell door suddenly, and Harleen was blinded by a ray of light from the hallway. "Nora, are you all right?" gasped a desperate voice, as a man hurried over to her, embracing her tightly. "God, your hands are like ice!"

"A rather fitting end for someone named Fries, would you not agree?" said a tall figure, standing in the doorway. The bright light of the hallway left his face in shadow.

"I will not let her die!" hissed the man hugging Nora fiercely, whom Harleen could only presume was her husband. "I will find a cure…"

"I invented the virus myself, Dr. Fries," retorted the man. "Using knowledge I have gained from centuries of wisdom. Trust me, there is no cure. But if you wish to continue to waste your days fighting the inevitable instead of spending the precious time remaining with your wife, so be it. I have more important matters to concern myself with."

Nora's husband sounded German – the other man did not. His accent was strange. He turned to leave, and that's when Harleen stood up. "Wait!" she shouted, with more courage than she felt. "Who are you? Why am I here?"

The man turned back. "You are here because my men found you and brought you here," he retorted. "If you mean what purpose you have in being here, I have not entirely decided that. Your fate has yet to be determined, but I would not trust to hope. It will not be a pleasant fate, whatever it is. The research that we do here requires constant test subjects. We have merely to decide which piece of research to test on you. Perhaps I'll have Victor here trial some freezing technology on you."

"I would rather die!" spat Victor.

"You won't, Dr. Fries. But your wife will, sooner rather than later if you defy me," murmured the man. He approached Harleen, his face still hidden in shadow. "Yes, freezing might be quite suitable for someone such as you. A pretty face, frozen forever in ice. Frozen solid, like a beautiful statue, for all time."

He reached out a hand to touch her chin, and Harleen recoiled. "Don't touch me!" she snapped.

The man chuckled. "How quaint. You believe you can order me around. Prisoners of mine, my dear, have no power. Not even the power of hope. You'll learn that when you're here a little longer. I am a man who takes what I want, all that I want, and destroys that which I do not. I just need to decide if I want you or not," he murmured, stroking her cheek gently.

"If you're a Nazi, you don't want me!" snapped Harleen, her anger overriding her fear. "What kinda Nazi would fraternize with a Jewish girl anyway?"

The man drew his hand away slowly. "I am not a Nazi, my dear," he murmured. "That is, I am collaborating with them for the time being, but my own goal is far grander than their pathetic little war. They cannot see beyond the needs of the present, to the glorious future that awaits me. Hitler will die in time, as all men do. I never will. I will see to it that my new world order, where all undesirables, all _Untermenschen_ are wiped from the face of the earth, is brought about, but I will be the one to rule over it. Not the Nazis, and not Hitler. I, Ra's al Ghul, am destined to do this."

He seized her around the throat suddenly, lifting her up with one hand. Harleen choked, and he flung her back against the stone wall. Harleen fell to the ground, gasping for breath, as every bone in her body felt like it had been broken. She heard the man coming over to her again, lifting her up by her hair. "Such a pity that you are an _Untermensch_ ," he murmured. "For your sake. You could have lived a little longer. But I'm afraid, Jew, that you must suffer the fate of all of your kind. A long, lingering, and horrible death. Enjoy what time you have left before you meet it."

He released her and strode from the cell, slamming the door shut and locking it. Harleen gasped for breath as she felt Nora's husband carefully helping her up. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"I…I think so," whispered Harleen. "I hurt all over…"

"I am a doctor – let me ascertain if anything is broken," he said.

Harleen nodded, taking a seat next to Nora. "This is Victor, my husband, as you might have guessed," said Nora, nodding at him. "I didn't catch your name."

"Harleen Quinzel," replied Harleen. "But call me Harley – everyone does."

"It's nice to meet you, Harley," said Nora. "For whatever little time we have left. It's best not to spend it alone."

Harleen nodded. "Nothing is broken," said Victor at last.

"Great. So you'll be the one who gets to break me using whatever crazy freezing technology they wanna try out," murmured Harleen.

"I do not want to hurt you," said Victor, softly. "I do not want to hurt anyone. But my beloved Nora…is everything."

"Victor, if it comes to it, let me die," whispered Nora. "I can't bear to think that you'll hurt Harley for me. I don't want anyone else to suffer for me."

"I cannot bear to see you die, Nora," he whispered, stroking her hair gently back from her face. "I will…do anything to save you."

"You can't," she murmured, taking his hand. "So just hold me and let it be. Stay with me until the end. I don't think it's very far away, for any of us."

Harleen hated to admit it, but Nora was probably right. She couldn't imagine any rescue from this place – even if Mr. J and the rest of the camp came looking for her, they couldn't infiltrate a Nazi stronghold. It was hopeless.


	13. Chapter 13

"So far, so good," whispered Pamela, as she looked around the interior of the castle.

"It wasn't so far – we just went through the old moat and into the sewers," said Joker. "From there it was a simple matter of lifting up one of the ventilation grates and climbing inside."

"What did I say about talking?" hissed Batman, rounding on them.

"In order to tell you, we'd have to talk," retorted Joker, and Batman clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Not another word out of either of you!" hissed Batman.

Joker shrugged, looking at Pamela and then gesturing at Batman and mimicking his angry expression. Pamela couldn't suppress a giggle. "Stop laughing!" hissed Batman.

"J's the one making funny faces!" whispered Pamela, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

"Hey, you're the one who laughed," retorted Joker.

"Just because you made me," shot back Pamela.

"What did I just say?!" demanded Batman.

"Well, you'd better stop talking by telling us to shush, or you could blow this whole operation too…" began Joker, but Batman clapped a hand over his mouth again as he heard voices coming from down the hall. Batman nodded to a pillar, and they all three ducked behind it, waiting until they heard the voices pass.

Batman pointed down the hall in the direction they had come from, and put a warning finger to his lips. They passed along tapestry-clad stone walls until they came to an open door. Batman peered carefully inside to see an empty laboratory full of bizarre looking machines and beeping lights.

"Well, which one is it?" whispered Joker.

"None of these," whispered Batman back, frowning. "They must have moved it from the lab."

"Why would they do that?" asked Pamela.

"Maybe they're planning on using it," said Joker, quietly.

Batman's heart tightened in fear as he considered that the Nazis might be aiming the ice ray at Arkham Camp as they spoke. "We have to hurry," he whispered, heading further down the hall.

"Why don't we rescue Harley first?" asked Joker. "At least we can figure out that prisoners are probably kept in the dungeon, and dungeons are often down," he said, nodding at a set of stairs at the end of the hall.

Batman nodded. "We split up," he whispered. "I'll find the weapon – you two search the dungeons. Once you've found Harley, get out of here and don't look back."

"Yes, sir, Captain Flying Mouse Man, sir," said Joker, saluting.

Batman glared at him and then climbed the stairs upwards, almost hoping that the Nazis would catch Joker.

"Keep up, Weed Lady," whispered Joker, heading down the stairs. They both heard voices at the bottom, and Joker put a finger to his lips, raising his knife.

"Why not shoot them?" whispered Pamela.

In response, Joker crept up behind a Nazi and clapped a hand over his mouth. He sliced his knife across the throat of his companion before he had time to scream, and then repeated the process with the one he had hold of.

"Knives are silent," he whispered, dropping the body to the ground. "Helpful when you wanna be stealthy, if you can kill 'em before they start screaming, that is."

He flipped the knife in his hand. "We'll leave the scalps – this is an urgent mission, after all," he said. "Harley?" he called. "Harley, are you down here?"

"Mr…J?" gasped a voice in disbelief, as Harleen peered through the bars. She let out a shriek of delight. "Mr. J! Red! Oh my God, it _is_ you!" she exclaimed as they raced toward her. "How did you find me in here? How did you get in?"

"No time to explain – we just gotta get you outta here," said Joker.

"I dunno how you can. It's locked, and the keys were taken by Ra's al Ghul," said Harleen.

"Who the hell is that?" asked Joker.

"He's this nutjob who's working with the Nazis," replied Harleen. "And he fits right in. He's as crazy as they are, I've gotta admit, babbling stuff about living forever and me being an _untermensch_ …"

"What a maroon," retorted Joker. "Nothing _unter_ about my Harley girl – she's the best of the best."

Harleen kissed him tenderly. "Now stand back, toots – you don't wanna get this on your skin," said Joker, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a trick flower.

"What are you gonna do, melt the lock off?" demanded Pamela.

"Yeah, actually," replied Joker, squirting some acid from the flower into the lock. The metal hissed, and then broke, and Joker opened the door. "C'mon, sweets, we're getting outta here," he said, taking her hand.

"Hang on, we've gotta take Victor and Nora too," said Harleen, turning back.

"Thanks, Harley, but…I don't think I can walk," whispered Nora.

"I will carry you, my angel," said Victor, picking her up gently in his arms. "Lead the way, clown."

"Ok, but before we head back up there, everybody's gotta be completely silent, got it?" said Joker. "Not one word, or we'll be caught."

Everyone nodded, and Pamela led the way back up the stairs. They suddenly heard voices approaching them and Pamela gestured at everyone to hide. Racing back down the stairs, they hid in the shadows of the dungeon. The voices were coming from Nazi guards, who had obviously come to relieve their comrades of their shifts. They paused at the foot of the stairs when they saw the corpses.

Joker looked at Pamela, who was closest, and slid his finger along his neck. She stared blankly back at him. Joker repeated the gesture, more urgently, nodding at the guards. Pamela just looked back at him in bewilderment.

"For God's sake, Pammie, I said knife 'em!" shouted Joker, leaping forward with his knife out.

"I don't have a knife!" retorted Pamela. "I only have a gun! And you said those make too much noise!"

Joker had managed to stab one of the guards, but the other leapt out of the way, racing back up the stairs and shouting in German for the others. Joker swore loudly, heading up the stairs after him. "Come on!" he shouted. "No need to be silent now that the alarm's been raised – just run!"

Everyone obeyed, following Joker up the stairs and pelting down the hall as fast as they could go. Joker reached the grate through which they had come in, and was just about lift it up, when he heard the sound of guns cocking. He looked up to see that a group of armed Nazis had surrounded them on all sides, every single one pointing guns at them.

"Quite a day for unwelcome guests," commented Ra's al Ghul, striding forward. "Another woman, a clown, and…a Batman," he said, as more Nazis dragged a struggling Batman to join them. "I don't know whether you're here to rescue the prisoners or destroy the device, but you've failed on both counts. And you're too late. My freeze ray is warming up as we speak – in one hour, your pathetic little camp and everything within a hundred miles of it will be frozen solid."

"Hang on, why does a freeze ray need to warm up?" asked Joker. "Kinda a design flaw if you ask me."

Ra's ignored him. "It will be our first demonstration of power," he continued. "When we show the world that the tide of this war is about to turn again in our favor."

"You're insane!" snapped Batman.

"Perhaps," agreed Ra's. "But a man dressed in a bat costume really shouldn't point fingers, now should he?"

He gestured at the guards. "Take their weapons, and return them to the cells for the time being. When the ray has warmed up, we will bring them to the tower so they may watch it destroy their camp and end the lives of their comrades. They will get a splendid view from up there – you'll be able to see nothing but ice for miles around. You are quite the privileged few, actually. The first people to get a glimpse of the new world order. The rest of the world will see it soon enough."

He turned and strode off. "Well, what are your orders now, Captain Flying Mouse Man?" asked Joker, as the guards dragged them back toward the dungeons.

"If you were a religious man, I'd say pray," retorted Batman.

"I'm not," replied Joker.

"In that case, do whatever it is you'd do if you were an hour away from the apocalypse," sighed Batman.

Joker shrugged. "Well, I'd probably do what I always do. I mean, what else can you do at a time like that but laugh?"


	14. Chapter 14

Alfred Pennyworth was worried. Captain Wayne had not returned from his mission to the Nazi stronghold, and it had been a good few hours that he had been gone. He sat in Wayne's tent awaiting his return, and was just about to return to the British camp and send off a message of failure, when a figure suddenly entered the tent.

"Oh…I was looking for Captain Wayne," said Jonathan Crane. "Dent's woken up, and he seems in a more reasonable mood. I mean, he's not going to attack anyone for the moment, but he's not at all well, mentally speaking. I was wondering if the Captain wanted him restrained, just in case he lashes out again. One can never tell when the mentally unstable are apt to be violent."

"Um…well…Captain Wayne's not here right now," said Alfred.

"Do you know when he'll be back?" asked Crane.

"No," replied Alfred. "I really couldn't say."

Crane stared at him. "Hang on, who are you?" he asked. "And what are you even doing here, in our camp, and in Captain Wayne's tent of all places? Aren't you British, under Lieutenant Tetch's command?"

" _Leftenant_ Tetch," corrected Alfred.

"Don't tell me how to pronounce ranks in my own camp!" snapped Crane. "Captain Wayne would not approve of you being here, and neither will Lieutenant Tetch when I tell him."

"I was just leaving to return to my camp, actually," said Alfred, hastily. "So I'll bid you good evening…"

"Oh no, you don't!" snapped Crane, following him out of the tent. "You don't get off that easily! I'm having a word with your commanding officer! Jervis!"

"Yes?" asked Tetch, emerging from his tent.

"One of your men was in Captain Wayne's tent while he was absent, snooping around, I shouldn't wonder," snapped Crane, nodding at Alfred.

"I can assure you, that was not my intention…" began Alfred.

"Then what was your intention?" asked Tetch, raising an eyebrow at him.

"That is…something I am not at liberty to divulge," said Alfred, slowly. "I'm sorry, sir."

"What if I order you to divulge it, as your commanding officer?" asked Tetch.

Alfred bit his lip. "I would not wish to defy you, sir," he said. "But I am afraid I must. If I must be tried as a traitor for disobeying orders, so be it. I am willing to accept the consequences of my actions."

Tetch looked at him. "I see," he said, lightly. "Would you both join me in my tent, please?"

Crane and Alfred followed Tetch into his tent. "Please have a seat," said Tetch to Alfred, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk. "Now it's been a very long, trying day, and after such days as this, nothing beats a nice cup of tea, I've always thought. Tea is one of the staples of our country, you know, Jonathan," he said to Crane, as he reached for the teapot and poured it out into three fine china cups. He handed one to Crane, took one for himself, and placed the other in front of Alfred. "I bet you'd really enjoy a nice cup of tea," he said, smiling at Alfred.

Alfred nodded. "Truth to tell, sir, I haven't had my tea ration for today…" he began, reaching for the cup.

Tetch beat him to it, sliding the cup and saucer just slightly out of his reach. "Most unfortunate," he said, lightly. "You must be craving it. There is nothing so comforting as the taste of a nice cup of tea – no matter what your situation, it makes your troubles a bit lighter. Nothing like it, I've always said. Some people call it a luxury – I call it a necessity. The taste, so bitter yet so irresistible. The heat as it slides down your throat, warming your insides. The stimulant effect on the mind and body. A pleasure like no other. A very necessary pleasure that one needs to live, like food or sleep, wouldn't you agree?"

"Y…yes, sir," stammered Alfred, gazing longingly at the cup of tea.

"Such a pity that you can't enjoy a nice cup of tea," sighed Tetch, taking Alfred's and sipping it slowly. "I mean, you could, if you told me what I wanted to know about why you were in Captain Wayne's tent. But since you've refused that, under pain of death, I don't see what tempting you with a little cup of tea would do. It's not life and death, after all. It's just a simple cup of tea. Simple and necessary. And necessary in its simplicity, wouldn't you agree? Just water and leaves, and yet their effect together is beyond miraculous. The ingredients of the earth combine to make heaven in one's mouth," he sighed, taking a long sip from the cup. "But I suppose you won't get to experience that again until the war ends," he sighed, putting the empty cup down. "I shan't kill you for insubordination, Pennyworth – I hate to lose good men. But I will deprive you of your tea ration permanently."

"You…you wouldn't," stammered Alfred, gazing at him in horror.

"Wouldn't I?" asked Tetch, pouring another cup from himself and stirring it thoughtfully. "It would mean more tea for me, after all."

"Sir…sir, you can't…do this to me," gasped Alfred.

"I won't, if you tell me what I want to know," said Tetch lightly, raising the cup to his lips again. "Otherwise you'll be rather the reverse of the Mad Hatter in Wonderland, won't you, Pennyworth? Instead of it always being teatime forever and ever, for you, it will never be teatime. Never, ever again…"

"Stop it!" cried Alfred, leaping to his feet. "I'll…I'll tell you what you want to know."

"There's a good fellow," said Tetch, pouring him a cup of tea and holding it out to him. Alfred reached desperately for it, but Tetch drew it away again. "Information first," he said, sternly. "And then it will be time for tea."

Alfred nodded. "Captain Wayne…is a secret agent for the American Government, codename Batman. I work undercover for the British Government, and our two governments have been cooperating in order to stop the Nazis from using their secret weapon, a freeze ray which will cover the world in ice. Captain Wayne headed toward their stronghold a few hours ago to destroy it, and has not returned. I fear something horrible must have happened to him. Now for God's sake, give me my tea!"

Tetch handed him the cup, and Alfred gulped it down greedily. "Goodness, Jervis, that was…surprisingly brutal," said Crane, staring at him in astonishment.

Tetch shrugged. "War makes monsters of the lot of us," he sighed. "And desperate times call for desperate measures. And speaking of desperate times and desperate measures, if Captain Wayne has been unable to destroy this weapon, I suppose we must try and succeed where he has failed. For the sake of both our nations, and the world."

"But what can we do?" asked Crane. "We're not secret agents – we're just common soldiers. And we've no idea where this Nazi stronghold is…"

"Straight through the forest – you can't miss it," gasped Alfred, holding out his cup to Tetch.

"Good lad," said Tetch, refilling it for him. "I feel we must try to do something, Jonathan, however futile. Even if it just involves gathering a few of us to head over there and see what we can do."

"Who would you suggest?" asked Crane.

Tetch stirred his tea thoughtfully. "Well, I should think the three of us," he said. "Since we know the risks. I'm not sure who else would be willing to go on what is very likely to be a suicide mission."

"Only an insane person," retorted Crane, and then an idea struck him.

"Harvey, how would you like to go on an incredibly dangerous mission that you probably won't survive?" asked Crane, entering the medical tent.

Dent shrugged. "Got nothing else to live for, do I?" he muttered. "I might as well end my life now, and quickly. At least that'll stop the pain forever."

"That's the spirit!" exclaimed Crane cheerfully, clapping him on the back. "We'll let you charge in first, so you're very likely to get shot. How does that sound?"

Dent shrugged again. "At least shooting's a quick death," he said, standing up. "Let's go."


	15. Chapter 15

"I never thought it would end like this," said Batman, gazing out the window.

"What, your life, or the world?" asked Joker.

"Both," replied Batman. "I always thought if it came to it, I could sacrifice my life to save the world. Then at least I'd be dying for a worthy cause. But this…this isn't how I wanted to go. Watching helplessly and powerless to do anything to prevent the apocalypse."

"Hey, don't give up yet," said Joker, clapping him on the back. "Maybe we can tunnel out."

"In an hour, and with nothing to dig with?" demanded Pamela. "Are you insane?"

"That's what they tell me," said Joker, shrugging.

"I know it's hard to accept that you're going to die," murmured Nora, as Victor held her gently. "But I think it's for the best, rather than clinging on to false hope. Find some sense of peace before the end."

"I hate peace," retorted Joker. "And I ain't about to just give up and accept my fate like the rest of you losers. I won't let the Nazis win."

"There's nothing you can do about it," retorted Pamela. "You're not some kinda superhero. Hell, you're not even one of the good guys."

"Yeah? So?" demanded Joker. "If the bad guys always lose, how come the Nazis are winning? There's no unwritten rule that says good guys always win, toots. Life isn't just or orderly like that. It's random and chaotic, and that's what gives me hope. There's always some insane possibility to turn things around. The future isn't set in stone, and everything can be changed with a lotta determination and a little smarts. And I got both. Yo, Iceman," he said, rounding on Victor. "I don't suppose you were smart enough to put a self-destruct button on your little freeze ray, were you?"

"No," retorted Victor.

Joker sighed. "Call yourself a genius," he muttered. "That would be the first thing I'd put on a deadly ray that could destroy the whole world that I had to hand over to the Nazis."

"There is no self-destruct button," repeated Victor. "But the core could destabilize, if overloaded."

"How could we overload it?" asked Batman.

"The same way one would always overload electrics," replied Victor. "Expose it to more power or pressure than it can handle. If the core generates too much power, it will explode. Unfortunately if that happens, the explosion is likely to kill everyone in the nearby radius. Even if we manage to shut down the device somehow before it activates, we will not survive it."

"I doubt their plan is to let us live anyway," said Batman. "At least our last act will be a heroic one."

"You actually think they'll let you get close to the device?" demanded Pamela.

"No," retorted Batman. "But maybe if we had some kind of distraction, they wouldn't have to notice it."

"You want a distraction? I can do distractions," said Joker, eagerly. "I'll give those humorless chumps a comedy routine they'll never forget – they'll die laughing!"

"They probably won't, and we definitely won't, with J trying to be funny," muttered Pamela.

"I'll laugh," said Harleen, smiling at him.

Joker smiled back, and kissed her. "It's not the way I would've picked to go either, sweetheart," he murmured. "But at least we'll be together."

"Yeah," agreed Harleen, taking his hand. "That's the only way I wanna go, Mr. J."

"Oh please, give me a break!" snapped Pamela. "You two are not some star-crossed, meant to be, Hollywood romance, and this isn't a happily ever after ending! This mission was top secret, so even if we succeed in destroying the device before we die, nobody will know we saved the world! We'll be blown to smithereens like the Nazis, and they won't even be able to find bits of our remains to bury!"

"Hey, who cares, Weed Lady?" asked Joker, shrugging. "As long as we go out with a smile, that's all that matters. Leave 'em laughing, right, kiddo?" he asked, pinching Harleen's cheek.

"That's right, puddin'," she murmured, kissing him.

"Wait, what did you just call me?" he asked.

"Puddin'," she repeated. "I think it's a cute little pet name. Doncha like it?"

"Sure I do, sweets," he said, forcing a smile.

" _Komm mit_!" snapped a voice as a group of guards appeared at the door to the cell, unlocking it.

"Thank God I'll be dead soon," muttered Joker under his breath. "Don't wanna be stuck with a pet name like that any longer than necessary."

They were all led under heavy guard down the hall and up a very long set of tall and winding stairs to the tower. When they eventually reached the top, they saw the freeze ray, a massive machine, its gun aimed in the direction of their camp. Ra's al Ghul stood in front of it, dressed in a warm, thick cape.

"Best to be prepared for the winter that is about to descend," he said, smiling at them. "It could get chilly."

"Ha ha, make some ice puns now," said Joker, sarcastically. "Or is that Freeze's job here?" he asked, nodding at Victor.

"What?" asked Victor, puzzled. "Why would I make ice puns?"

"Because your name is Freeze, and you work with ice," retorted Joker. "Then again, I suppose you making ice puns would be a bit on the nose…"

"Do you think yourself amusing, clown?" interrupted Ra's.

"Well, yeah," said Joker, shrugging. "That is, I don't _think_ I'm amusing – I know I'm hilarious. And anyone with any sense of humor knows that too. You being a Nazi, I guess you were born without one of those, along with a brain, but…"

Ra's seized Joker around the collar suddenly, lifting him up. "If you wish to meet your death sooner, clown, that can be arranged!" he hissed.

"Put him down!" shrieked Harleen, starting forward, only to be held back by the guards. One of them struck her hard across the face.

Ra's's lips twisted into a cruel smile. "You have feelings for the clown, do you, _Untermensch_?" he murmured. "And he for you, I see," he added, noticing the rage in Joker's eyes directed at the guard who had hit her. "Good. In which case, I will not kill him now," he said, dropping Joker to the ground. "I would like you both to watch each other suffer. That's the sort of thing I find amusing, clown."

"Oh yeah, the suffering of innocents can be a real gag," agreed Joker, smiling coldly up at him. "Only there's no joke if the people you're torturing ain't innocent. And I ain't, Nazi boy. I've lost count of the number of your comrades I've killed, but I can tell you how many of them I've scalped. That makes me smile, y'see, looking back on my war trophies and remembering how I killed 'em, ridding the world of a buncha humorless idiots with their ridiculous beliefs in order and fascism and racial purity. See, the thing is, pal, the punchline to this whole mess of a war you've started, is that you can't possibly win. Even if you freeze the world and start all over again, sooner or later, you're gonna have to deal with disorder and chaos. It's a part of human nature, a part you can't wipe out, with all your theories on master races and pure bloodlines. Madness is the most natural human instinct we have – we're born with it, and the stupid ones repress it. But the smart ones embrace it. And good, old-fashioned human insanity will bring about the end of your Third Reich, pal, just as the crazy emperors brought about the end of the Roman Empire. Sooner or later, we all go a little crazy."

Joker stood up so that he was eye level with Ra's. "And you might be the world's biggest control freak, but you can't control me. Ask Batsy," he said, nodding at Batman. "Or don't – God knows he hates a good distraction."

Joker punched Ra's in the face suddenly. The guards descended on him, and Batman slowly slid his way toward the freeze ray, trying to figure out how on earth he was going to overload it…

And then they heard screaming from down below. Batman glanced down at the entrance to the castle to see a bunch of guards fleeing in terror, shouting incomprehensible gibberish. Batman waited expectantly to see something terrifying come through the gates. But there was nothing but four figures, dressed in the uniforms of American and British soldiers.

"I'm very impressed, Jonathan," one was saying. "Why didn't you test this gas of yours on the enemy sooner?"

"I didn't think it would be particularly effective," replied the other, shrugging. "It was just a little hobby of mine I indulged in between fixing up the wounded, and I never had the opportunity to test it. But now that I have, I think it'll be invaluable for the war effort. Jonathan Crane's Patented Fear Toxin – it'll make me a fortune."

"You'll need some sort of mascot," continued the first man. "Nothing is sold without a mascot these days."

"What about a scarecrow?" asked the second man. "I think that would be quite appropriate."

"Can the talk!" snapped another man. "You promised I'd get shot! Where are all the damn Nazis?!"

"Inside, Harvey," retorted the second man. "And I'm sure there'll be plenty to shoot you, don't worry."

Ra's shouted some orders to the guards in German, dispatching more of them downstairs to meet the intruders, and leaving only six up in the tower with them. Joker and Batman shared a look, and then Batman slammed himself back against the wall, knocking the breath from his captor's body and making him release him. Joker's approach was to slam his leg back and up, colliding with his captor's crotch.

"Aw, gee, hope I didn't do any permanent damage there," said Joker, as the man released him. "Sure would be a shame if you couldn't pass on those Aryan genes."

Joker seized the gun in the guard's holster and shot him, again in the crotch. "See, shame," he sighed, as the man fell to the ground.

Pamela had followed suit, slamming her foot down on her guard's, and then charging toward Harleen's captors. Joker beat her to it, firing into their faces, as Batman launched himself at Victor and Nora's guard, slamming his face against the stone wall of the tower.

"You're finished, Ra's," hissed Batman, turning to him. "This weapon will never be fired, and your twisted vision of the future will never come true!"

"So you throw your lot in with murderers and lunatics, do you?" sneered Ra's. "I am disappointed that a man who claims to be interested in justice can be so blind to the justice of my vision."

"It's insane," retorted Batman. "And if my only choices are between different versions of insanity, I'm going with his," he said, nodding at Joker.

Ra's nodded slowly. "So be it," he said, lightly. "Then you will suffer his fate."

"Mr. J, look out!" shrieked Harleen, as Ra's pulled out a gun and fired at Joker. Harleen had already leapt in front of him, but she was shoved out of the way by Batman, who took the bullet instead, full in the stomach.

In the ensuing chaos, Ra's slammed his fist down on the button which activated the freeze ray, and then raced toward the stairs as the ray hummed, preparing to fire. He was seized by Victor Fries.

"You infect my wife, and you blackmail me to create a weapon to destroy the world," hissed Victor. "Do you really think you will not face justice for that?"

"I am the one who mandates justice, fool!" snapped Ra's. "Now let me go!" he demanded, pointing his gun at him.

"Go ahead and shoot," retorted Victor. "If my wife must die, I wish to as well. But not before avenging her."

He shoved Ra's back, knocking his head against the stone wall and dazing him for a moment. Victor used the distraction to seize Ra's's arm, and shove it deep into the muzzle of the freeze ray.

"It will not fire now," murmured Victor. "It will overload from the pressure, and explode, taking you with it."

"No! Release me at once!" shouted Ra's, struggling to free his arm.

"Everyone, run!" shouted Joker, throwing Batman over his shoulder, as the freeze ray began to beep and shake. "It's gonna blow!"

They all raced down the stairs as Ra's still struggled to free himself. A few seconds later, they heard a loud bang, and then the top of the tower exploded in a blaze of fire and mortar. The stairway behind them began to collapse, and they all rushed down it and out of the tower. Victor, carrying Nora, was the last to emerge into the entrance way of the castle, just as the tower collapsed in on itself.

"Ah, there you are!" said Jervis Tetch, brightly, smiling at them as he, Crane, Dent, and Alfred stood in the entrance way, surrounded by Nazi corpses. "We were worried that you'd gone missing, so we came looking for you all."

"Master Bruce, you're hurt, sir!" exclaimed Alfred, racing over to where Joker lay Batman down.

"It's fine, Alfred," hissed Bruce, clutching his stomach. "Just a bullet wound. I've had worse."

"I didn't know you cared about me that much, Flying Mouse Man, sir, to take a bullet for me," said Joker, smiling at him.

"Nothing personal," retorted Batman. "But I do hate unnecessary loss of life. Even a life as horrible as yours."

"Oh, puddin'!" gasped Harleen, leaping into Joker's arms. "I'm so glad you're safe!"

"I'm not, if I have to put up with being called puddin' long term," muttered Joker, but he hugged her tightly in return.

Dent threw down his gun suddenly in annoyance. "Buncha liars," he muttered, glaring at Crane. "You promised I'd be shot and killed on this mission! You said it'd be fatally dangerous! But then you scared most of the Nazis off, and the ones that were left were easy to pick off! And now I'm stuck being alive, which I didn't wanna be! This is the worst day ever!"

"Oh, do try to cheer up, Harvey," said Crane. "You're a hero, after all. You've helped save the world. Surely that should please you a little."

Dent shrugged. "What's the point in being a hero?" he muttered. "Who cares about heroes?"

"I do," murmured Pamela. "Heroes are my kinda guy."

She threw her arms around his neck suddenly, kissing him deeply. Dent returned it, crushing her body tightly against his.

"Well…I guess there is a perk to this hero gig after all," he said, grinning at her as she drew away at last.

"He gets a girl, I get a hole in my stomach," muttered Batman, hissing in pain as Alfred helped him to his feet. "Maybe there is no justice in this world after all."


	16. Chapter 16

"How are you feeling, sir?" asked Alfred, as Wayne lay in the medical tent with a bandaged stomach.

"Fine," retorted Wayne. "Did you get the message about the mission success to headquarters?"

"Yes, sir," replied Alfred, nodding. "Superman sends his compliments on the completion of the mission, and the gratitude of the rest of the Justice League, and the world, although they will never know about it."

"Who are these freaks?" asked Joker, chuckling to himself as he counted his Nazi scalp collection. "Superman? Justice League? Sound like a bunch of weirdos!"

"Says the man currently organizing his collection of Nazi scalps," muttered Crane, who was replacing Wayne's bandages.

"I just want it sorted by hair color," retorted Joker. "Start with the blonde Aryans, since they're the Master Race and all, and then going darker from there. My only regret is that old Ra's al Ghuly was blown to smithereens with the freeze ray – I woulda liked to add his scalp to my collection. In terms of quality insanity, it would be like having Hitler's. But I guess I can't really complain about the amount I got from the castle, and sometimes quantity is better than quality, after all."

"Dr. Crane, I am ready to begin the procedure," said Victor, emerging from behind a screen. "And I can't thank you enough for letting me analyze the components of your fear toxin, which I believe has given me a key element in my quest to heal my beloved Nora."

"I'm very happy to be of assistance," replied Crane. "I did always want my fear toxin to be used for peaceful purposes, after all."

"What kind of peaceful purposes did you think scaring people to death would apply to?" asked Joker.

"Well, someone hasn't been listening to my lectures on the perks of being afraid, and the power of fear as a force for justice," replied Crane.

"Nope," agreed Joker. "I hated school, so I tend to tune out anything that sounds like a lecture."

"Which is why I'm saving Mrs. Fries, and you're not," retorted Crane. "Start the operation, Victor – I'll join you in a moment."

Harleen entered the medical tent. "Hey, pumpkin pie, what are you doing here?" asked Joker, beaming at her.

"I wanted to see how Nora was doing," replied Harleen.

"She's resting in preparation for the operation," said Victor. "Which will be performed imminently."

"And of course I wanted to see you, puddin'," Harleen continued, kissing Joker. "Plus Red kicked me outta our tent."

"Oh yeah?" asked Joker. "Why's that?"

Harleen shrugged. "Mr. Dent came to see her, and she just told me to leave and not come back for a while. It sounded kinda like she was being hurt as I left, but she kept saying, 'Yes! Oh yes!' so I figure she wasn't in too much pain."

Joker stared at her. "Aw, geez, you…don't know what they were doing?" he stammered.

"No. What?" asked Harleen.

"Does anybody here have a dirty book?" asked Joker, looking around. "Craney, some of your medical textbooks have gotta have juicy bits, right?"

"I didn't bring any medical textbooks to a warzone!" snapped Crane.

"Master Bruce, you have that book with Miss Kyle in it," spoke up Alfred.

"No, I don't," said Wayne, hastily. "I don't have any book. I don't know what you're talking about."

"I found it when I was cleaning your tent, sir," retorted Alfred.

"See? I told you he was snooping," said Crane, shaking his head.

"I was not snooping – I was cleaning," retorted Alfred. "And I needed to look in the book to see where in the tent Mr. Wayne would want it. And once I did, I reasoned that underneath his pillow where he had it was already the best place for it."

"Yes, thank you, Alfred!" snapped Wayne.

"What book is this, Flying Mouse Man?" asked Joker, grinning at him.

"None of your business!" snapped Wayne. "Just something…my girlfriend gave me before I left…to remember her by. Something…personal, and for no one's eyes but my own."

"It was very graphic," said Alfred. "It would probably illustrate the basics to Miss Quinzel at least."

"Miss Quinzel is not looking at it!" retorted Wayne. "Nobody is looking at it, except me when I'm feeling better! I certainly deserve to after all the crap I've gone through!"

Joker chuckled. "Aw, Flying Mouse Man, you put on this tough, hard façade, but deep down, you're as human as the rest of us!" he giggled, slapping his wound.

"Unfortunately, yes, I am," growled Wayne, hissing in pain and shoving him away. "Now leave me the hell alone!"

"Cranky as the rest of us too," muttered Joker as he and Harleen left the medical tent. "Well, sweets, since Flying Mouse Man forbade us from looking at his dirty book, I'm just gonna have to tell you about the facts of life myself."

"Ok," said Harleen, looking at him expectantly.

Joker looked back at her, not knowing where to begin, and feeling beyond awkward at having to explain this to his girlfriend. "Tell you what, I'm just gonna show you instead," he said, taking her hand and pulling her toward his tent. "If you feel any pain or discomfort, just shout, and we can stop at any time. And if you have any questions throughout the whole process, you let me know. I'll be happy to answer them, but it's pretty self-explanatory once you get going, I think. And if Pammie asks, tell her I told you all about it beforehand, because I honestly don't think you'll have any objections."

…

"God, I can't tell you how incredible that was," gasped Dent. "After three years without it…"

"You did pretty good for a guy who hadn't had it in three years," said Pamela, grinning at him as she dressed. "Helluva lotta stamina."

"I don't think it's something you forget," said Dent. "Like riding a bike. Uh…not that you're a bike, that's not what I meant…" he added, hastily.

"Also been three years since you talked to women, huh?" said Pamela, with a grin. "Don't worry, I'm not offended by any guy who can show me that good a time. Judging by my experience, your ex-fiancee's a total idiot."

"Well…she did me a favor in the long run, in that I got to be with you," murmured Dent, smiling at her. "I'm just glad my face doesn't repulse you now."

"C'mon, Harvey, I'm not a superficial gal," said Pamela, kissing him. "Anyway, you got that wound because of me. Showing you how much I appreciate you saving my life is really the least I could do."

"Oh…is that all this is?" asked Dent, slowly. "Because I was kinda hoping…you'd be my girl now."

"Well, I'll be heading back home with Harley soon," said Pamela. "So it was only ever gonna be a short-term thing."

"Oh," repeated Dent. "Ok. You won't…wait for me? I mean, the war's almost over, fingers crossed, and I really…like you."

Pamela grinned. "I really like you too, Harvey," she said, taking his split face in her hands. "And I guess you are worth waiting for. That experience alone was almost worth waiting another three years for."

"Well, you won't have to wait that long again," chuckled Dent, pulling her down into his arms.

"Not yet, I've gotta check on Harley," said Pamela, gently disentangling herself from his embrace. "Hope she didn't wander far."

"You can't treat her like a child that has to be looked after forever, Pam," said Dent.

"I can when there are dangerous, unscrupulous men around who just wanna take advantage of her," retorted Pamela.

"Look, I'm not a big fan of J's, but I don't think he's just trying to lure her to dishonor," said Dent. "I think he does love her, or feels for her whatever his twisted mind thinks is love. And if Harley wants that, who are we to object?"

"Harley doesn't know what she wants," retorted Pamela. "It's up to me as her friend, and more experienced woman, to tell her that, and to control her life for her. What else are friends for? If left to her own devices, she'd make terrible decisions, like coming here and dating the clown."

"I don't think you coming here was a terrible decision," said Dent.

"Well…maybe not," agreed Pamela. "But dating the clown definitely is. And I'm going to save her from making a horrible mistake that she'll only look back on with regret and disgust," she said, exiting the tent.

She emerged into camp to hear a loud cacophony of sound, like someone torturing an animal. "Jesus Christ, what the hell is going on?" she demanded.

"Dunno!" shouted back a soldier, who had his hands clapped over his ears. "It's coming from Joker's tent!"

And Pamela's eyes widened in fear as she realized that she recognized the voice of the tortured animal. "Harley!" she screamed, racing toward the tent.

"Oh my God, puddin', that was amazing!" gasped Harleen's voice from inside.

"Yeah…kinda an amazing noise you got there too," agreed Joker. "Really…unique and…loud."

"Harley!" cried Pamela, racing into the tent.

"Jesus, Weed Lady, learn to knock!" shouted Joker, throwing the covers over himself and Harleen.

"Oh God, what have you done?!" demanded Pamela.

"Something really, really fun, that I wanna do again right now!" giggled Harleen. "Why didn't anyone tell me about this sooner? I want more!"

"Maybe that's why nobody told you about it sooner," replied Joker.

"I can't believe you let him do this to you!" cried Pamela.

"Why not?" asked Harleen. "He's the man I love, and I trust him. And it was a whole lotta fun – why were you trying to stop me from having fun, Red? I thought you were my friend!"

"But Harley, you don't understand what it means…" began Pamela.

"It means that the guy I love knows how to make me feel real special," purred Harleen, kissing him. "Anyway, if you can do it with Mr. Dent, why can't I do it with Mr. J?"

"Because…because…" Pamela struggled to think of a response, but couldn't come up with one that didn't sound crazy or petty. "Oh, do what you want!" she snapped. "But don't blame me when you end up pregnant with a clown baby and abandoned by this creep!"

She stormed from the tent. "Pregnant with a clown baby?" repeated Harleen. "What's she talking about? How can I get pregnant from using a whoopie cushion? Do clown babies come from whoopie cushions?"

"Not the whoopie cushion, sweets," replied Joker. "The thing we did before that."

"Oh, that," said Harleen, nodding. Then she frowned. "Wait…does Pam think I don't know what sex is?"

"I think…we all kinda thought that," said Joker, slowly. "You seemed not to know what we were talking about before…"

"You never said the word 'sex' before," retorted Harleen. "You all spoke in allusions and euphemisms. I'm sorry that I don't speak a language where words actually mean other words, but I don't. I believe in plain speaking, and if one of you had just mentioned sex, I wouldn't have been confused anymore. I mean, it's 1944, not 1844, and I'm a modern woman, you know."

"But you didn't seem to know what Pam and Harvey were doing, or what a dirty book was..." began Joker.

"When would I have seen or heard people having sex?" demanded Harleen. "I didn't know there were books for that! But I've had the talk - my parents weren't idiots!"

Joker chuckled. "And to think I was worried about taking advantage of an innocent girl!" he laughed. "But you ain't so innocent, are ya, toots?"

"Well, I was," she replied, grinning. "But I ain't no more, Mr. J. Thanks to you. I mean, I never even knew a whoopie cushion could be used like that."

"Well, when you're on your own for a long time, you find inventive uses for everything," agreed Joker. "So I guess that means you didn't have any questions for me, huh?"

"Just one," said Harleen, smiling at him. "Can we do it again?"

Joker laughed. "Of course we can, sweets," he said, kissing her. "Anytime you want. Gotta have enough to tide me over when you leave, at least until I can get back to you after the war's over."

She beamed at him. "You will…wait for me, huh?" he asked, slowly.

"Of course I will," she replied. "I love you, Mr. J. And we've gotta have our happy ending, right? All Hollywood-style romantic of us heading off into the sunset together?"

"That's right, toots," he agreed, kissing her again. "So, aside from the sex, is there anything else you wanna do before you leave? Not much time before Captain Flying Mouse Man calls an aircraft to take you back home, and we gotta make the most of it."

Harleen thought for a moment. "Well, there is one thing…"


	17. Chapter 17

"Miss Isley, the plane's arrived to take you back to Gotham," said Captain Wayne, entering her tent a few days later. "I've just notified Mr. and Mrs. Fries, who are accompanying you now that Mrs. Fries is well enough to travel. Are you ready to go?"

"All packed," said Pamela, nodding.

"You've said your goodbyes?" asked Wayne.

"Harvey's meeting me at the plane," said Pamela. "I think he's hoping for a _Casablanca_ -style goodbye. Though God knows why – Ingrid Bergman went off with another guy at the end. But men have strange ideas about romance," she sighed.

"Where's Miss Quinzel?" asked Wayne, looking around the empty tent.

"Still with her clown prince charming," said Pamela, sarcastically. "She's stuck to him like glue ever since the rescue – if I didn't know better, I'd say they were plotting something together."

"I've noticed that Joker's been unusually non-disruptive lately," said Wayne, nodding. "I'll miss Miss Quinzel as a distraction for him, I won't deny it. The more he's with her, the less trouble he's causing me. I dread the headache I'm going to have with her gone and him up to his old, annoying tricks. I've been mercifully spared from them thanks to Miss Quinzel."

A soldier burst into the tent suddenly. "Sir, the plane…it's being stolen, sir!"

"What?" demanded Wayne, racing outside with Pamela following. They were just in time to see Joker throwing the pilot out of the cockpit, and climbing in with Harleen accompanying him.

"We're just borrowing it, Flying Mouse Man, I promise!" chuckled Joker, waving at him. "We'll bring it back in good condition! See you soon!"

"Joker, hijacking a military plane is a court-martial offense!" shouted Wayne.

"You owe me a favor for helping you save the world!" called back Joker. "So just keep this hush hush, huh, Flying Mouse Man?"

"I'll be back soon, Red, don't worry!" shouted Harleen, waving at her. "Mr. J's just taking me to Paris!"

She giggled over further shouts of protest from both Wayne and Pamela. "Do you know how to fly a plane, puddin'?" she asked, as Joker pressed some buttons.

"Nah, but I'll figure it out," he said, shrugging. "How hard can it be? I'll just try this stick thing here and… _voila_!" he exclaimed, as the plane rose into the air. "That's French, kiddo! And there's gonna be a lotta French where we're going!"

"Joker! Get back down here right now!" shouted Wayne. "Or I'm throwing away your Nazi scalp collection!"

"Empty threats, Flying Mouse Man!" shouted back Joker. "I've got 'em right here!" he said, holding up a bag. "See you in a couple days! _Au revoir_ and all that jazz!"

Pamela and Wayne watched them disappear into the sky. "Well, I guess I'm unpacking," muttered Pamela, heading back to her tent. "Harvey will be pleased."

"I'm court-martialing him," said Wayne, storming back to his tent. "I'm court-martialing him right now!"

He picked up the radio speaker, and then slammed it back down suddenly. "All right, I'm not court-martialing him," he muttered. "But he's on mess hall cleaning duty until the war is over, mark my words!"

…

"I told you, it's not what you'd expect from all the songs and stories about it," said Joker. "But I'm pretty sure that's because it's been under the occupation of the Nazis, who ruin everything. Give it a few years, and it'll probably be all romantic again, and we'll come back."

"Yeah," agreed Harleen. "It's not exactly what I was expecting. But with you here, it's still the most romantic city in the world, Mr. J."

Joker had managed to miraculously land the plane without damaging it, and they were now strolling hand in hand down what was left of the Champs-Élysées, looking around the damaged, desolate streets of the city.

"We can't get a coffee or a wine or anything because of the rationing and all," continued Joker. "But we can still see the sights. There's the Eiffel Tower," he said, pointing. "Y'know, give it a few years, and this would be a great place for you to do a show, or a movie, depending on how big a star you become," he said, looking around.

"Oh, I'm sure I ain't good enough for Hollywood!" laughed Harleen.

"Sure you are," he said. "C'mon, let's practice now. Show 'em what you got, kid."

"But there's no music, Mr. J," said Harleen.

"So? We'll make our own," he said, shrugging. "You can sing and dance, and I'm not so bad at that myself. Let's just improvise a routine."

"I'm not sure it's really the place for it," said Harleen. "This desolate, depressed city…"

"It's the perfect place for it," interrupted Joker. "Give it a reason to smile again. What else can you do in a desolate, depressed city except spread a little happiness? That's the place that needs it the most."

Harleen beamed, and kissed him. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," he said. "Now let's dance, kid."

They began singing "Pack Up Your Troubles In Your Old Kit-Bag" at the top of their lungs, improvising a complicated swing dance routine underneath the Eiffel Tower while doing so. Some of the people stared at them in astonishment, and some shook their heads in pity at the lunatics the war had created. But most of the spectators smiled and applauded, joining in with the dance.

"Y'see?" asked Joker, gesturing around. "Nothing's more contagious than laughter. Having fun inspires other people to have fun too, no matter how bad things are. If anything, the war's brought home how important it is to be happy while you can. It can be taken away from you at any time."

"Yeah," agreed Harleen, a sudden thought striking her. "I guess…you could still be taken away from me at any time," she said, hugging him tightly. "I'm gonna do nothing but worry about your safety once I'm back home."

"Yeah, you will," he said, soothingly. "You're gonna go audition to be a star. And I'm gonna hear about it on the radio, and that's gonna make me so happy, to hear about my girl going places. And it'll make me even more excited to hold her in my arms once we're all safely home."

He kissed her. "Anyway, whatever happens, we'll always have Paris," he added with a smile.

…

A few days later, Joker flew the plane back to the camp, and Harleen bade a tearful goodbye to him as she boarded to head back to America. But Joker encouraged her to smile, and made her promise not to give up on her dream once she got home.

Harleen was a sobbing mess the whole flight back, and nothing Pamela or Nora or Victor could say would comfort her. But the moment they arrived back in Gotham, Harleen bucked up, determined to fulfill her promise to the Joker. She dragged Pamela to audition after audition, and once she was there, always performed with a smile. Something about her smile, and her infectious attitude and optimism, appealed to a club owner, who contracted her and Pamela to perform for his establishment. A few months later, a casting director saw them perform, and invited them to Hollywood to appear in a film. They were the headlining act, using their stage names: _Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy – Gotham City Bombshells._ Harleen beamed when she saw the poster – Pamela dressed in roses and lying in a victory garden, while Harleen was dressed in her clown outfit and riding a bomb. "I can't wait for Mr. J to see it!" she exclaimed.

The troops overseas did get sent a copy of the film, and Joker got to watch Harleen's big screen debut as Harley Quinn surrounded by his fellow soldiers. "That's my girl!" he exclaimed, beaming at her.

And when the war finally ended a year later, the Joker and Harley Quinn were finally reunited – Pamela came with her to meet the troops coming home to Gotham.

"There they are!" exclaimed Harleen, pointing at the steps of the plane as Joker disembarked, followed by Dent. "Mr. J! Over here!" she screamed.

Joker raced over to her, picking her up and spinning her around. "There's my little star!" he exclaimed, kissing her. "Missed you, kiddo!"

"Did you miss me, Pam?" asked Dent, approaching her tentatively.

In response, Pamela seized him and shoved her mouth into his. "You know, now that I'm famous, I've had a lotta guys after me," she murmured, drawing away at last. "But I had to tell 'em sorry, boys. I got a fella overseas. And he's one of a kind," she added, smiling.

"Dr. Crane! Dr. Crane, over here!" shouted a bunch of reporters, snapping pictures of him. "Is it true that you single-handedly changed the course of the war with your fear toxin?"

"Now I wouldn't say single-handedly changed the course of the war," replied Crane, smiling. "I'm nothing if not a modest man. But it certainly brought a speedier victory than we otherwise would have had. You can contact Lord Jervis Tetch in England if you'd like to hear an unbiased opinion of its effect."

"Is it true that Mrs. Nora Fries is alive today because of you?" asked one.

"It certainly is," said Nora Fries, holding her husband's hand and smiling. "And we can't thank you enough, Dr. Crane. This is a friend of mine who would very much like to meet you," she said, nodding at the attractive young woman standing next to them. "Dr. Jonathan Crane, Miss Emilia Lee."

"I'm so pleased to finally meet you, Dr. Crane," said Emilia, beaming at him. "Nora's told me so much about you, and what you did for her and the war effort. You're a hero."

Crane stared at her, stunned. "Maybe…hero is a bit of an overstatement…" he stammered.

"Not to me," she replied, taking his hand and smiling. "And heroes are my type."

He smiled back, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it.

"Bruce!" cried a woman, pushing her way to the front of the crowd as Wayne disembarked, his luggage being carried by Alfred. "Bruce!"

"Selina!" exclaimed Wayne, holding out his arms to her. "Kitten, I can't tell you how much I missed you."

"Well, hopefully not too much," she said, smiling. "I did give you that book."

"It got me through the war, kitten," said Bruce, nodding. "You have no idea of the kinda crap I had to go through with these lunatics," he said, gesturing around. "It was like spending four years in a madhouse."

"Oh my God, it's Harley Quinn!" exclaimed the reporters, noticing Harleen suddenly. "And Poison Ivy! Miss Quinn, Miss Ivy, over here!" they shouted, flashing cameras at them. "When's your next feature film?"

"Hopefully soon," replied Harleen. "I hear rumors they're putting something together for us at Warner Brothers, but I'll let you know once it's confirmed. For now, if you'll excuse us, we're going home to spend some quality time with our soldier boys," she said, beaming at Joker.

She turned away from the cameras, leaning lovingly on Joker's arm. "So have you met Walt Disney yet?" he asked. "I wanted to thank him for _Der Fuehrer's Face._ It's been stuck in my head all the way back on the plane, and the guys really didn't appreciate me singing it for eighteen hours straight. _When der Fuehrer says, we ist der Master Race, we heil, heil, right in der Fuehrer's face…_ gosh, I hope they make more songs making fun of Nazis in the future. They're comedy gold!"

"Hey, you're outta a job now," said Harleen, smiling at him. "Why don't you write 'em? Then you can join Harley Quinn in her comedy film career. We can be a clown duo, spreading smiles and laughter around the world."

"Sounds good to me, toots," he said, smiling back. "Think we can sneak my Nazi scalp collection into a movie somehow?"

"Maybe save that as something special to show our grandkids," replied Harleen.

"Grandkids?" he repeated, grinning. "Guess that means you're planning on getting pregnant with a clown baby at some point."

"I am," agreed Harleen, grinning back. "As soon as possible."

Joker chuckled, kissing her as they strode off into the sunset together. "As soon as we get home, I'll get the whoopie cushion."

 **The End**


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